Kelly House
by yappingpuppy
Summary: The newsies followed Jack through thick and thin and through a strike. How long will they follow him? Will this ragtag gang of ragamuffins who calls themselves a family ever be able to become a real family? How will their pasts affect their present and their futures?
1. Chapter 1: Battered, Bruised, and Broken

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Jack, always a light sleeper, bolted upright. "What the hell was that?" He checked to see that Kat was alright. For a moment he just stared at her sleeping form. Though they'd been married for several months, there were times when he still couldn't believe she'd chosen him, a street-smart newsie, over all the rich and privileged guys she'd grown up around.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The impatient pounding at the front door of their townhouse jolted him back to reality. But this time Kat heard it, too.

"Mmm. What's that?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Shh." He kissed her. "Go back to sleep. I'll see what's goin' on."

"Mmmm," she hummed as she drifted back to sleep.

Jack hastily pulled on his pants and shirt as he ran down the stairs. He reached the front door just as the pounding began again. He threw open the door. "What the hell—!" His outrage caught in his throat as his mind registered what he was seeing.

Race, Albert, Specs, and Romeo were shivering in the cold downpour, but it was the unconscious Crutchie they were holding that caught his attention.

"Move," Race demanded as they pushed past Jack into the house.

"What the hell happened?" Jack shut the door and followed the group into the parlor.

They laid Crutchie on the floor in front of the fireplace. Specs set to starting a fire while Race and Albert worked on pulling off Crutchie's soaked coat and shoes.

"Romeo?" Jack looked to his young friend for an explanation.

Romeo circled the activity on the floor to stand beside Jack. "Dunno exactly what happened."

"Damn murderin' thieves!" Race muttered loudly.

"What!" Jack exclaimed.

"We was waitin' on Albert at Jacobi's. We didn't know when he'd get there, so Crutchie, he ain't been feelin' good lately, he left before we did. Not much, just a few minutes, I guess, 'cause it wasn't too long after that Albert got there. 'Bout a block or so past Jacobi's we heard a fight, so we went to check it out. It was three guys—" his voice cracked, " _three_ , Jack, all bigger than even the Delancey's—and they was beatin' on Crutchie!"

Jack wrapped an arm around Romeo's shoulders.

"Murderin' bastards!" Race hadn't stopped his angry diatribe against Crutchie's attackers.

"We chases 'em off, of course, but Crutchie's already on the ground and not movin' or nothin'." Romeo continued, distraught. "We didn't know what to do, so's we brung him here."

Jack gave Romeo a quick squeeze. "It's OK. Here's where he should be."

Romeo nodded.

"He musta fell in a puddle?" Jack asked.

"Nope,"Specs had the fire going and was laying Crutchie's coat and shoes on the hearth to dry. "Wasn't rainin' when we found him. It started on the way here."

"Then what's that wet spot under him?"

Race dabbed at the dark spot on the rug. He looked at his reddened fingertips and exploded. "He's bleedin'! Christ, Jack, he's bleedin'! Those bastards knifed him!" Race tore at Crutchie's shirt.

Jack pulled Race off Crutchie. "Hold him, guys!"

Albert and Romeo each grabbed an arm and used all their strength to hold back a furious Race.

"Race, stop it!" Jack demanded. "You'll only make it worse, tugging at him like that!"

Race was beyond hearing.

"Specs, sit on him!" Jack ordered as he knelt to inspect Crutchie's wound. "Race, shut up, or you'll wake up Kat."

"Kat's awake," announced a feminine voice from the doorway. Kat was entering the room, a hastily plaited braid hung over her shoulder, and bare feet peeked out from beneath Jack's flannel robe. "Merciful heavens," she gasped when she saw Crutchie. She knelt beside him and gently started inspecting his wounds. His eyes were blackened, and he had multiple cuts and large bruises all over his face. "What happened?"

"Guys, shut up and let Romeo tell it!" Jack commanded when all four guys started talking at once.

She listened to Romeo as she lifted one side of Crutchie's shirt and groaned at what she saw. "Specs, hand me the scissors from that table, please." She carefully cut the shirt open down each sleeve, from collar to cuff. Then she cut down each pant leg.

"Guys, I need you all to be quiet, OK?" Kat explained. "It won't be easy, but yelling and shouting won't help me and it won't help Crutchie."

They reluctantly agreed, and she and Jack slowly peeled away the pieces of the shirt. Kat's breath caught in her throat as she surveyed the damage done to Crutchie. It wasn't any easier for the rest of them. Long red welts striped his torso and wrapped around to his back. Between them were large bruises and multiple cuts, all a bright, angry red but rapidly turning a horrific shade of deep purple. There were at least two deep knife wounds in his side.

"Specs, give me the shirt from that basket then go get Charles, if he's not awake already. Ask him to get Dr. Morrison. Greta's probably up already, too. If you see her, let her know we need her medicine basket and some bandages in here."

"Right!" Specs tossed the shirt to Kat and dashed out the room, glad to have something to do.

Kat pressed the shirt into the knife wounds. "Albert, Race, head to the back. We'll need lots of wood to keep Crutchie warm."

Race practically ran out to door.

"Albert," Kat called him softly.

"Yeah."

"Keep him busy."

"Ya got it," he promised, then followed after his friend.

"Romeo, when Specs gets done, the two of you bring a bed from one of the rooms upstairs and put it in the yellow parlor down here. Just move my stuff to the side for now."

Romeo headed out to search for Specs.

"Is he gonna make it?" Jack asked quietly, now that they were alone.

"I think so, but he's in a really bad way. In addition to all these wounds, he's burning up with fever. How are his legs?"

Jack pulled back Crutchie's pants and pulled the long johns up to the knees. He swore quietly but violently. Crutchie's legs were striped with deep welts across his chins and calves. "Oh, God, Kat," he choked on a sob.

"What?" she looked up in alarm.

"They've broken his legs! What they did to him wasn't enough, they had to break his legs, too!" He jumped to his feet and began angrily pacing the room.

"Jack. Jack!"

"What!"

"Calm down!"

"You want me to calm down when I see my best friend chopped up into pieces for no reason?"

"Yes! You need to calm down. You have no choice!"

"No choice?" he was incredulous. "No choice!"

"That's right! You have to remain calm or those guys out there are going to go to pieces and get _themselves_ hurt trying to avenge this! Do you want that?"

Jack glared at her, hating that she was right. He growled, then yelled and punched the air a few times. He took a few deep breaths before rejoining Kat beside Crutchie. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. He tucked her into his side.

"You can go to pieces later, when we're in our room. I promise. But those guys need you to show them how to handle this."

"I know. I hate it, but I knows." He kissed her forehead. "You're an incredible woman, ya know?"

"Take off your shirt."

"Is this really a good time?" he lamely teased as he did as she asked.

She rolled her eyes and took the shirt from him, placing it with the other one over Crutchie's wound. "I'm frightened, too, Jack," she admitted in a wavering voice.

He gathered her as close as he could while she maintained pressure on Crutchie's wounds. "Hey, don't you fall to pieces, now, O.K.?" He kissed her forehead. "Let's make us a deal. How's 'bout you be strong for me and I'll be calm for you and together we can pretend like everythin's gonna be OK for the fellas. When we's alone in our room, we's can both cry like babies."

Kat chuckled. "It's a deal, mister. But I can't shake on it."

"Oh, I think a kiss seals the deal just as good," he cradled her face and gently kissed her.

She smiled. "I love you, Jack Kelly."

"You're a fascinatin' woman, yourself, Katherine Kelly."

They jumped at a crash in the entryway. Jack groaned, kissed her again, then headed to the commotion outside. At the door, he turned, "Take care of him," he pleaded.

She nodded. "I will."

They shared a brief look then he turned back to the fracas. "Hey, fellas, whacha doin'? How'd that happen? Kat, they busted that ugly mirror! Romeo, get a broom from the kitchen and sweep that up before someone gets hurt. Get Race in here while you's at it. He's good at this kind of stuff. Geez, Specs, how'd they ever get beds into rooms in the first place when they's bigger than the doors?"

Kat smiled at the uproar, knowing Jack's everything-as-usual bellowing was hard for him but necessary, not only for the others, but for himself as well. She looked down at Crutchie. Now, if only she could find a way to distract herself as well.

"Ma'am?"

Kat looked up to see Greta, their housekeeper crossing the room, wrapped in a warm robe against the nighttime chill, carrying a basket that Kat knew was filled with all sorts of medicines and home remedies. She took in the situation at once and began inspecting Crutchie's wounds. "I thought we were being invaded," she admitted with a smile.

"They are a bit loud when they're upset."

"Yes. But tonight there's good reason." Greta cupped Crutchie's face in her hands. "He's burning up with fever."

Crutchie groaned.

"Crutchie?" Kat called softly. "Crutchie?"

"Ma?" he queried. His hand moved, searching.

Kat looked at Greta, who indicated that Kat should play along. Kat grasped Crutchie's hand. "Crutchie?"

"Ma?"

"Yes. I'm here."

"It hurts so bad, Ma."

"I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

"Why's he do it, Ma?"

"I don't know. You rest, now. The doctor will be here soon and you'll be fine in no time."

"No, Ma! Not the doctor! Pa'll beat you, too, like last time," Crutchie started to sit up. "I's fine, you see," he started coughing. "I can get on fine without the doctor."

"No, Crutchie," Greta pushed on his shoulders to get him to lay down again. The bleeding in his side started up again.

"Crutchie, sweetheart, you just rest. I won't call the doctor. O.K.? Just rest."

"No doctor?"

"No. No doctor," she promised.

" 'K," and he drifted back to sleep.

"Hmmph," grunted Greta indignantly and Kat had to smile. He didn't know it yet, but Crutchie had just won one of his staunchest allies. Greta had escaped from an abusive marriage when her husband was killed in a drunken brawl. Unfortunately, his death had left her and her daughter without any income. She had barely been making ends meet when a couple of newsies told Kat about her. When they met, the two women clicked instantly. Kat offered Greta the job of housekeeper, which Greta was only too happy to accept. She moved in and took over immediately, and Kat couldn't be more delighted as Greta's presence allowed her to concentrate on her career. Kat had no idea how to run a household, and it had taken Greta a full two weeks to undo everything Kat had tried to do.

Greta began systematically removing what remained of Crutchie's clothes. Kat helped her turn his body so they could be slipped out from underneath him. A blanket from the couch was used to preserve his modesty. Annie, Greta's 15-year-old daughter, arrived during the undressing. Great quickly sent her for soap, water, and towels. "And bring the new oil cloth from the kitchen table."

In moments, Annie returned with the requested items. Greta then sent her to the yellow parlor.

"But, mama," Annie protested.

"Go," admonished her mother gently. "We are going to bathe him and it's no place for a young girl to be. Judging from the sound of things, they need some help in Miss Kat's parlor. While they're moving the bed, go on and make some sandwiches and coffee and round up some dry clothes for the boys. Once the bed's in place, it'll need fresh sheets and blankets. Then pack up Miss Kat's things and stack them neatly in Mr. Jack's study."

"Annie," Kat called, "don't hesitate to have the boys help you do any of that. They all know how to make beds and sandwiches. Romeo and Albert would be good choices."

Annie smiled. "Yes, ma'am," and she left the room.

Greta and Kat arranged the oil cloth under Crutchie then set to washing the dirt and blood off his lifeless body. When they finished his chest, stomach, and back, Greta had Kat hold up the blanket.

"But, Greta, I am certainly familiar with the masculine body by now," she protested with a blush.

"I'm sure you are," Greta agreed with a grin, "but would this young man or your husband be comfortable knowing that you know—"

Kat yanked the blanket up in front of her face with a laugh and even deeper blushing. "I see your point."

Greta chuckled and finished her task quickly. "It's alright now." She covered Crutchie with the blanket. "Here, hold this part of the blanket up. I want to take a closer look at these wounds."

Greta decided the wounds were best left to the doctor and settled for tying a bandage around him to hold clean cloths in place over it. It wasn't bleeding as badly as it had been, which she took for a good sign. She handed the soiled shirts to Kat, who tossed them in the fire. They were too easy to replace and she didn't want any reminders of tonight.

Jack came in just as they finished, carrying a tray with a few sandwiches and drinks on it. He placed the tray on a table beside the couch and joined the ladies on the floor. "How's he doin'?"

Kat refused a sandwich for herself but took a bite of his. She told him what Crutchie had said.

Jack nodded. "He ain't never said nothin' 'bout bein' a kid, but it ain't surprisin' that's how it was."

With nothing more to do for Crutchie until the doctor arrived, Greta went to check on the progress in the yellow parlor.

Kat leaned against Jack. "It's abominable," she muttered.

"I don't know that word, but if it means it's awful and unfair, then I gotta agree with ya." He kissed the top of her head. "I's scared for him, Kat," he whispered.

"Me, too."

Crutchie stirred again. "Ma?" he wailed. "Ma?"

Kat grasped his hand in one of hers, and brushed her fingers through his hair with her other hand. "I'm here, sweetheart. Shhh. Everything will be fine. You just rest."

"Ma, it hurts bad."

"I know, sweetheart. Can you rest for me? Just close your eyes and rest and it won't hurt anymore."

"Promise?"

"I promise." She kissed his forehead. "You just rest like the little man you are and everything will be just fine."

"Don't leave me alone, Ma." He mumbled.

"Never," she promised.

He was already asleep.

Jack shifted so she could lean back against him without releasing her hold on Crutchie's hand. "Jack, I don't know what to do."

"You kiddin' me?"

She looked up at him in question.

"A bunch of noisy fellas wakes you up in the middle of the night with a bleedin' boy in tow. 'Stead of fainting or screamin' 'bout getting' blood on the rug, you settle down five angry guys, sends for a doctor, sets up a bedroom, and gives the beat-up boy a bath. If that ain't knowin' what to do, I dunno what it is."

She looked surprised to realize that she'd accomplished anything at all. "I just did what needed to be done."

"That's what makes you so amazin'."

A few minutes later, Greta entered the room with the doctor. Four boys, dry, fed, and much calmer, trailed in after them. Annie circled the small crowd to stand near her mother.

Jack helped Kat stand up and they greeted Dr. Morrison.

"Charles will be along shortly," he told them. "Even at this time of night, traffic insists on creating obstacles. He stayed with my carriage so I could see to the injured boy."

"Thanks for comin', Doc," Jack shook the doctor's hand.

"Not at all. Now, let me see to this young man."

After a thorough examination, he covered Crutchie up again and looked up at Kat. "The cuts and bruises on his face and body are putting on a good show, but appear to be fairly superficial. The fever isn't surprising given the nature and number of wounds he has, and it should be watched, but I figure it will come down without a problem. You have tincture of iodine? Willowbark?"

Kat looked to Greta.

"Yes," confirmed Greta. "We have them both in good supply."

"Any leeches?"

Kat and Jack looked at each other and mouthed, "Leeches?" with expressions of fascinated disgust.

"No."

"That's a shame. They'd help with the larger bruises, but they'll still heal. It'll just take longer."

"I will get some."

Doc nodded. "Very good. I'd say for the next week or so, keep him cleaned up and treat the cuts with the iodine. If he wakes up and is still feverish, try getting willowbark tea into him. If the fever is gone, tea with honey should help the cough somewhat. If you can get some leeches, use them on the larger bruises; they'll heal faster with the swelling from the blood gone."

Greta asked a couple of questions for clarification, then indicated she understood the doctor's instructions. "What about the cuts in his side? And his legs?"

Dr. Morrison pulled the blanket down to Crutchie's waist. "He's received some pretty severe blows on his stomach, but he does not appear to be bleeding internally, which is very good news." He traced a couple of the long red stripes racing across Crutchie's midriff. "These welts? Does anyone know what caused them?"

Race answered. "I seen one of 'em had brass knuckles. One of 'em was kickin' him hard. The other was whackin' at him with his own crutch!" He was getting worked up and angry thinking about it, but Albert's hard squeeze on his shoulder reminded him to keep his temper under control.

"Three?" Doc couldn't believe it. "Three men did this to him. But why? He hasn't a malicious bone in his body."

"We don't know who did it, Doc," Specs volunteered. "Best we can figure right now it's just 'cause he got a bum leg."

"Mighty poor reason," grumbled the doctor, poking and prodding Crutchie's stomach and sides. "We'll let the knife wounds bleed out a bit longer, then stitch them up. They don't appear to have hit anything serious."

Doc lifted the blanket to reveal Crutchie's legs. Albert frog marched Race out of the room before he could do much more than choke on his outrage.

"Oh, my." The welts and cuts on his legs had changed from angry red to a deep, violent purple. The fractures above his ankles had his feet set at odd angles to his legs, made all the more horrendous due to the swelling at the breaks. He probed the bones. "They seem to be clean breaks, so that's good. Not much swelling yet. Was it recent?"

"Yeah. Best I figure, not more than an hour or so," Jack supplied, looking to Specs and Romeo for confirmation. They nodded.

"Yeah. Sounds 'bout right," agreed Romeo.

"Very good. Sooner is easier to fix than later, but it's still going to hurt."

"But he's knocked out," Specs observed. "Don't that help?"

"It could. But I've seen the pain wake grown men before."

"He's been talking a bit," Kat offered, "calling for his mother, but I don't think he's conscious."

"That's not unusual," Dr. Morrison said, continuing his inspection of Crutchie's legs. "The rest of the legs seem fine. If there are other fractures from the force of the blows, they are minor enough to heal during convalescence."

Greta nodded.

"To set the bones, I will need bandages, four strong but thin strips of wood, and men to hold him down. The ladies should probably leave for their protection."

Jack grinned. "Uh, Doc, you prob'ly shouldn't'a said that."

All three women fussed at the doctor all at once.

"He thinks I'm his mother and I will not abandon him," Kat declared.

"I have set bones before, so I will assist and help hold him down if necessary," Greta stated firmly.

"I won't ever learn what to do if I have to leave every time something happens," Annie pointed out.

"You are correct, dearest," Greta agreed with her daughter. "So we will all stay. Annie, go fetch the wooden strips the doctor needs and bring back the other two boys with you."

Annie left in search of the requested items and people.

Greta stared at the doctor and dared him to contradict her.

He chuckled. "I didn't really expect otherwise," he admitted. "I merely suggested it, just in case."

Annie returned in a few moments, Race and Albert right behind her.

Dr. Morrison arranged everything where he'd need it, then faced the boys, knowing they needed to understand what was about to happen. "I need to set his broken bones. They appear to be clean fractures, so that's good. But leg muscles are strong and will resist the pulling and twisting I'll have to do to get them back in place. The muscles in Crutchie's left leg will be very strong because he has relied on that leg as his primary leg for so many years. The muscles in his right leg will not be as strong, but they will have shrunk from how they should be," he indicated the correct position of his own leg, "to how they have become after his leg was allowed to heal in the wrong position." His fingers pinched as he twisted his foot to a position similar to Crutchie's. "Of the two legs, that one will likely hurt more. And believe me, it will be painful. I need you to understand that and know that the pain is necessary in order for Crutchie to properly heal, and it is not something I take pleasure in at all."

The boys looked to Jack, who nodded at them. Then they looked back at the doctor. "We gets it, Doc," Albert answered for the group.

"Ain't he asleep?" Romeo asked.

"He's been stirring, so he's not as under ask I'd like him to be. I'm guessing he will feel what's happening and react. I need you boys to hold him down while Greta and I set his bones."

"Doncha got nothin' to make the pain go away?" Romeo wanted to know.

"Sometimes I'll administer a small dose of laudanum to make the patient sleepy or at least take the edge off the pain. But I do not give it to anyone who is not fully conscious first."

"Oh."

"Excellent inquiry, though, Romeo. I appreciate a person who questions what's going on."

Romeo beamed.

"Now, boys, you are angry, and rightfully so, about what happened to your friend," he pinned Race with a steely glare. "Right now, I encourage you to allow that anger to give you the strength you're going to need to hold Crutchie still. But once we have him fixed up and bandaged, you need to let go of your anger and all thoughts of retribution. They will do neither you nor Crutchie any good, unless you'd like to be one of my patients, too."

"Uhh, what?" queried Race.

"He means, numbskull, to stop your fumin' 'bout what happened!" Jack translated.

"But they's—"

"I don't care!" Jack bellowed. "It's done and no amount of bellyachin' and gripin' can undo what happened. We don't know who did this or why or who's behind it, and I don't want any of you, or any other newsie, tryin' to find out. Ya got that?"

"But Jack—"

"No!" Jack cut off the protests. "Tomorrow I'll get Davey and Spot and the other leaders over here and we'll figure out what to do. Until then, no newsie is to so much as kick a rock in anybody's direction. Got that? And I don't mean just you don't do nothin'." He pointed at each of them in turn. "I mean you not only don't do nothin' but you don't go sayin' things meant to to stir up someone else so's _they_ do somethin'. Your job is to keep everyone else calm until we—as a union—can get it figured out!"

"But I wanna bust the heads of the guys what done this!" Race exclaimed belligerently.

"Go bust your own head," Jack growled in Race's face.

"We can't help?" Specs stepped between the two men.

"Yes. Maybe. I dunno," Jack answered. "Let me talk to Davey and the others first."

"But why?"

Jack stared at them all incredulously. He took a steadying breath and explained. "OK. Let's say ya sees a fella or two that look like they might be who beat up Crutchie. Whacha gonna do? Ask 'em if they did it? Or maybe ya don't ask no questions, ya just get in there and soak 'em? What if they's not the right guys? Then someone else is dealin' with what we gots here," he waved his hand in Crutchie's direction. "You guys want that?" The guys all shook their heads. "And even if they do says they did it? Then what? All of ya said they was bigger than the Delanceys which means they's all bigger than all of _you_. How's it help Crutchie for you's to all get beat up and get _your_ legs broke? Hunh? How will that help? I need your legs workin' proper so's you can help with Crutchie, _not_ have you lyin' in a bed next to him."

Understanding dawned on their faces. Romeo, Specs, and Albert voiced their agreement.

"Race?" Jack warned.

Reluctantly, "O.K. I'm in, but I don't like it."

Jack clapped Race on the shoulder. "I knows, pal. I don't like it, neither, but Crutchie needs us to use our heads for somethin' besides punchin' bags."

Race nodded. "Yeah." He spit in his palm and held out his hand. Jack did the same and they shook on it to seal the promise. Jack repeated the ritual with the others.

"O.K., Doc. We's ready."

Doc positioned Jack and Race at Crutchie's shoulders. "Hold him down at the shoulders and chest, not his arms. I don't want him to have a dislocated shoulder on top of everything else. And watch out for the knife wound. Try not to let him twist too much."

Specs and Albert were set to lay across Crutchie's legs. "Lay across his thighs in order to keep his legs as still as possible. He'll try to kick at the source of the pain. Greta and I will appreciate it if you can keep him from kicking us."

"You got it, Doc," Specs promised.

Doc leaned in and whispered, "Keep that blanket on him, too. I wouldn't want to embarrass the ladies, if you know what I mean!"

"You got it, Doc," Specs and Albert promised, grinning.

Romeo and Annie stood by, ready to assist where and how they might be needed. Kat sat near Crutchie's head, ready to soothe him as best as she could.

Doc started with Crutchie's left leg. As he and Greta started twisting and tugging on it, Crutchie moaned.

"Ma, it hurts."

"I know, sweetheart. It'll be over soon."

"Make it stop hurting."

"I will. Rest now and everything will be O.K."

Crutchie hiccuped as tears flowed. "It hurts so bad." He was twisting and trying to push at the pain with his injured foot. He screamed.

"Shhh," Kat crooned. "Everything will be O.K. in just a minute." She combed his hair with her fingers.

A moment later, the pieces of bone lined up and Crutchie relaxed a little. Doc quickly bandaged the leg using two pieces of the wood as splints. Everyone took a deep breath and tried to relax, too. Crutchie had tried to squirm away from the pain, and he'd been stronger than they'd thought he'd be.

It wasn't long before Doc got started on Crutchie's right leg. He reminded everyone he was fighting swelling and atrophied muscles, so they'd probably be in for a rough ride.

Crutchie whimpered again as Doc got started. Kat tried to soothe him, but as Doc continued, Crutchie's cries got worse. "Make him stop, Ma. Please?"

"Baby, hold still. It's O.K. Ma's right here."

Crutchie was writhing in earnest. "Ma, untie me! I can't move! Why does he tie me up? Untie me, please?"

"Hold him down!" Doc commanded.

"No, Pa! Don't hurt me! I'll get more money tomorrow! I promise! I'll do better tomorrow! Don't hurt me, please! I can make the people give me some money!"

Doc fought with Crutchie's leg.

Crutchie screamed. "Leave Pa alone, Ma! I'm O.K.! Pa, don't hit her. Please don't hit her! I'll do better tomorrow! Ma! Get up, ma! I'm sorry I didn't get enough money today! Ma! Get up! Please! Get up, Ma! Pa, what's that stick for? No! Don't hurt me! Please! I promise I'll get more–Agghhh!" He passed out just as the last bone fell into place. Doc bandaged up that leg in complete and utter silence. There wasn't a dry eye in the room.

Charles had returned during the procedure and now he helped each of the emotionally wrung out boys from their places on the floor. Race sat on the couch, elbows braced on his knees. "Damn, Crutchie," he muttered quietly.

"Who'd'a thunk?" Specs mused.

"He's too nice a guy to have a father like that," Albert said.

"Yeah," agreed Romeo.

"Thank goodness for his mother, rest her soul," Annie said quietly.

"Yeah," they all agreed.

Jack went to help Kat up, but she refused to leave Crutchie. "Doc needs to sew up those wounds. I don't want him alone for that."

"Yes," agreed Doc. "Now's a good time; he won't feel a thing right now." He and Greta prepared the items he would need for the brief procedure.

"He won't know you're there," Jack gently pointed out.

She yanked her shoulder from his grasp. "I don't care. I don't want him to be alone."

Jack settled behind her and draped his arms around her. "I know."

They, with the others, watched in silence as Doc stitched up Crutchie's side and bandaged it. Kat combed Crutchie's hair, his head in her lap the whole time.

When Doc was done, Jack picked her up off the floor. "We've got to move him," he explained over her protests.

She nodded. "How's the parlor coming along?" she asked and followed the boys across the hall. "It's wonderful!" she approved. The bed had been set up on the far wall, between the fireplace and the bay window facing the street. Her things were gone. There was a cot set up in the corner near the fireplace.

"Why's there a cot in here?" Albert asked. "Don't Crutchie get to sleep in the bed?"

"I figured we wouldn't want Crutchie left alone for a while, but we need to sleep, too," Annie explained.

Kat hugged her. "Good thinking," she praised. "Well, shall we get him moved in?" She looked at Jack.

"Yup. Doc, whadda we do?"

"I need six or so people," his voice trailed off as he led Jack, Charles, and the newsies out of the room. The women turned down Crutchie's bed and made up the cot.

The men arrived shortly, very slowly and carefully carrying Crutchie in the oilcloth, three to a side and Jack at his head. They laid him on the bed, oilcloth and all.

"Should we remove the oilcloth?" Kat asked.

"No," Greta advised. "It won't hurt him to sleep on it, and it will protect the sheets and mattress while he might still bleed."

Kat nodded, tucking the covers around him.

"That's all we can do for tonight," Doc said. "Treat his cuts with soap, water, and iodine. Keep his legs propped up on pillows to help the swelling go down. Try and keep him cool to get that fever down. I'll come by first thing in the morning to check on him. Call me immediately if his fever gets too high."

"Right, Doc. Thanks for everything," Jack walked Doc to the door.

He returned to find everyone gathered around the bed. He joined them and pulled Kat back against his chest.

"Who's going to stay up with him tonight?" Annie asked.

"Me," Race volunteered.

"O.K.," Jack agreed, squelching Kat's protests with a squeeze. "The rest of you's stay here tonight. Longer if you want. Just pick a bedroom upstairs." He put an arm around Kat and they started across the room.

"Just one more thing," Race's quiet voice stopped them.

"Yeah?" Jack asked.

"I knows it prob'ly don't need sayin' but I wants to say it anyways."

"What?"

"Crutchie never told no one 'bout his folks. If them stupid thugs hadn't busted his legs, we wouldn't know what we does. So's I'm thinkin' that we need to let it stay here and don't go blabbin' what we heard to anyone else."

"Sounds good." "That's fair." A chorus of agreement echoed around the room. Just to be sure, Race did the hand shake ritual with everyone to seal their promise.

"G'night fellas," Jack said when the last handshake was done.

"Night," they chorused back.

* * *

 ** _NOTE: The medical care described in this and other chapters is a mix of a little bit of research, a spoonful of what I've read in other books and what I've seen on TV and in movies, and just a smidgen of dramatic license for things to be the way I needed them to be. I apologize if anything is grossly inaccurate; it's my intention to be as accurate as possible, but I also need the story to have some certain elements in it, so that's where the dramatic license comes into play. Thanks for understanding!_**


	2. Chapter 2: Kat's Boys

Greta, Annie, and Charles went down the hall to their respective rooms. Jack and Kat headed for the staircase. Kat made it to the stairs before her legs gave out. Jack scooped her up and carried her to their room. He sat on the bed with her across his lap, holding onto her as if she might blow away. She didn't try to stop the tears running down her face and onto his bare chest.

A few tears he couldn't control trickled down into her hair. "Oh, God, Kat," he whispered in a shaky voice. "How can such evil exist?" And why would it attack Crutchie, of all people? He don't have a mean bone in his body! Why would three huge guys choose to pick on him?"

"Because they can, I guess."

Jack took a deep breath. "Yeah. With that gimp leg, he's an easy mark. And he ain't never been whatcha call muscular. But still, it ain't fair."

"No," she agreed on a wet sigh.

They held each other for several long minutes.

"Kat?"

"Hmmm?"

"I don't wanna stay up here tonight."

"Neither do I."

"Let's head back down?"

"Yes," she agreed, "but first I want to get cleaned up and dressed. You should at least put on a shirt."

"Yeah."

They quickly washed up and changed out of the blood-spattered clothes they were wearing.

At the top of the stairs, Kat stopped. "I know Race volunteered for the first shift, but how many newsies do you think are still in there with Crutchie?"

"All of 'em," Jack reckoned. "Let's get some blankets?"

Kat nodded. "And pillows."

They raided the bedrooms on that floor, piling their findings at the top of the stairs into a large mountain.

"That's a lot of trips up and down the stairs," Kat observed.

"Nah," Jack countered with a grin. "Hey!" he yelled. Albert's head popped around the door frame. "Come get this stuff." He tossed the bedding down the stairs.

Four sets of hands made short work of getting it all into Crutchie's room.

Kat hugged Jack. "You are quite a clever guy."

"What can I say? It comes natural."

"Hey, Jack!" Specs shouted.

"What?"

"Ya gots more pillows?"

"Ain't ya gots enough?"

"We put a couple under Crutchie's feet like Doc said, so now me and Albert don't gots one."

Kat laughed. "We'll be right down with more pillows," she promised.

They gathered more pillows and a few more blankets, just in case, and headed downstairs.

Jack went to check on Crutchie while Kat helped the guys prepare beds on the floor.

"How's he doin?" Jack asked Race, who was wiping down Crutchie's head and chest with cool, wet cloths. Greta had come back to show them what to do before she retired for the night.

"Dunno. He ain't no better, but he ain't no worse, neither, so far's I can tell."

"Guess it's too soon for Doc's work to change much."

"I s'pose."

Jack gave Race's shoulder a reassuring pat. "Thanks, Race."

With Crutchie as well as he would be for the time being and Race watching out for him, the events of the night began showing their effects. The boys all settled on their makeshift beds, Jack and Kat sat back against the wall on the cot, Kat's legs curled up under her, resting her head on Jack's shoulder. There was some general chit chat at first, but it quickly faded away as exhaustion claimed everyone.

Some time later, Kat woke up, shifting to awaken her sleeping legs. She looked around at the sleeping boys, all on top of their blankets. She gently disentangled herself from Jack's arms and stood, shaking the last of the tingling from her legs.

She walked to the bed. "How's he doing?" she asked Specs, who had taken over for Race.

"No better, no worse."

She brushed Crutchie's hair, caressed his cheek, felt his forehead. "He does feel a bit cooler."

"Yeah?" Specs asked hopefully. "Then this is workin'?"

"Seems so," she smiled and patted his shoulder. "He's lucky to have such great friends."

Specs blushed. "Jack says we's a family. I guess that means we sticks together."

"I guess it does," Kat agreed. "Now, how to get these boys _under_ those blankets?"

The boys were, by necessity, light sleepers, so it didn't take much to rouse them enough to get them to roll to one side so she could pull the top blanket out from under them and use it to cover them up.

She started with young Romeo; she guessed him to be in the neighborhood of eleven or twelve, but longing to be as grown as his 15- and 16-year-old counterparts. As she was tucking the covers around him, he looked up at her with sad, tired eyes. "Kat?"

"Yes?"

"If I still had folks, I think my mother'd be just like you."

Kat's eyes instantly teared up. "Romeo, that's one of the sweetest things anyone's ever said to me."

"Could I, just for tonight, maybe pretend you really is? Like you did for Crutchie?"

"I'd be honored." She smiled at him and brushed his hair off his face. "I'll be your mother anytime you need one."

"Fer real?"

"Fer real."

"And you won't let nothin' happen? To Crutchie or the rest of us?"

"Hush, now," she leaned down to kiss his forehead. "You are here, where you will always be safe. Close your eyes and sleep. Leave the worrying to me."

"O.K.," he mumbled with a soft smile as he drifted off to sleep.

She stood and saw four pairs of eyes staring intently at her. Jack's were twinkling with amusement; the others were hungry with longing.

She ignored Jack for the moment and went to Albert. "Roll over so I can get this blanket. It's too cold tonight to sleep uncovered."

"I usually do," he let her know, even as he did as she asked.

"Well, not here, you don't," she admonished gently as she tucked the blanket around him, surprised that he let her. She thought for certain he'd feel he was too old for such treatment.

His hand reached out to keep her from leaving when she was done. He pulled her close so he could speak to her without anyone else hearing. "I ain't no little kid…"

She brushed his hair off his forehead. "Everyone needs a mother sometimes. You can borrow me whenever you need to. It can be our secret."

He nodded, relief he couldn't quite hide showing in his eyes.

She kissed his forehead, too. "Sleep, now. You're safe here."

Almost immediately, he was out.

She moved to Race, whose eyes were glossy with unshed tears.

"Are you OK?" she asked as she gathered the blanket and spread it across him. When he didn't answer, she softly felt his face for signs of fever.

"I's fine," he said gruffly, but he didn't turn away from her ministrations. Just as she was about to leave, he told her, "I remember my ma. She weren't so pretty as you, but she was a good person. Nice. Tucked me in at night, too, when she could."

"Where is she?"

"Dead."

"Oh, Race, I'm so sorry."

"S'OK. I'm used to it. She was just a whore what got knocked up by a john, so I never knew me father. But she was good. Loved me fierce."

"I'm sure she did. You're a pretty special guy."

He was quiet for a long moment. "I knows I's lucky 'cause I at least had a ma, ya know? But sometimes I miss her awful bad."

"I'm sure you do. It's hard to lose someone you love."

"Maybe I can tell you 'bout her one day?"

"I'd like that."

He smiled.

"Sleep, now," she said gently. "Your mother isn't here, but I am, and I'll watch over you, just as she would have." She kissed his forehead as she had the others. "Everything's going to be O.K. I promise."

He turned onto his side and got still, eventually drifting to sleep amid memories of his mother.

Kat stood and looked around the room. Three boys sleeping more soundly than they had in a long time; two still awake. She smiled at her husband then noticed that Specs' hands were still and his head was nodding. She looked back at Jack and tilted her head to indicate he should take Specs' place.

He moved to the bed and quietly spoke to Specs who nodded and walked to where Kat stood, blanket already in hand. He dropped down gratefully and let Kat tuck him in, too. He took his glasses off and she put them on the edge of the bench in the bay window.

"Thanks, Kat."

"Anytime." She started to get up, but it looked like he wanted to say something, so she sat with him a little longer.

In low tones, he shared some of his past. "There was eleven of us, last time I knew."

"That's quite a family."

"I was somewhere in the middle, seventh one or eighth maybe. No one knowed or cared, even, 'cept my sister Mary. She was second after my oldest brother. She was in charge of the youngest ones and took care of us best she could 'til my father decided she needed to earn some money. He had a friend interested in her, willin' to pay big to be her first. She didn't want that so she went to work in a factory. Pop's friend didn't like that so's he followed her one night and attacked her in a alley. Got to be her first, after all, he said, and it was free. When he was done, he left her alone, bleedin', all beat up. She died right there, but I was with her. I never went back home after that.

"You reminds me of Mary. She was real pretty, too, and always nice to everyone, no matter what. Always takin'care of people, worryin' and fussin' 'bout little things like is they warm at night. But they's not such little things, is they, when you don't get them no more?"

"No. They're not."

"I forgot how nice it was to be fussed over like my Mary used to do. It's nice." He yawned. "Thanks for marryin' Jack so's you could live here and be fussy even if we say we don't like it, 'cause we do." His eyes drifted shut as his voice trailed off.

"You're welcome, Specs." She kissed his forehead. "Sleep now. You're safe here."

His mouth turned up in a brief smile before he, too, succumbed to sleep.

Kat tucked the covers in around him, checked each boy again, then sat on the bed behind Jack, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his back. She felt drops of water on her arm and didn't think much about it until she realized Jack wasn't moving. She stood and handed the bowl of water to Jack and gathered the towels together. "Come with me to the kitchen to get fresh water," she told him in a low voice.

He followed obediently, standing where he was as she took the bowl and deposited it and the towels in the sink. He let her push him into a chair. The hollow expression in his eyes would have worried her, but she knew he was frightened for Crutchie and he didn't know what to do: crying was a sign of weakness in his world, but his worries and fears were so big, they were threatening to overflow whether Jack liked it or not. So she did all she knew to do, then sat on his lap and kissed him.

He kissed her back and as his eyes focused on her, he came back to reality. Suddenly, he grabbed her, holding her for all he was worth, fighting the emotional upheaval the night had brought with it. She held him close, comforting him as best as she could. Words wouldn't help, so she just held him, crying silent tears of her own.

"Oh, God, Kat, what if he don't make it?" he choked, "What if—"

"Stop it right there, mister," she ordered. "Don't even go there, not even when we're alone."

"But—"

She kissed him quiet. "Dr. Morrison said Crutchie was going to make it. There's no reason to believe otherwise. OK? It might be slow going or tough to bear, but he will make it. He will." She cradled his face in her hands and looked him in the eyes. "Remember, he's been through worse, much worse, and made it through. This time, though, he has medical care and a family that won't give up on him."

At her insistent words, his demeanor calmed somewhat. He nodded and pulled her to him again, this time snuggling her beneath his chin. "You're a treasure, Katherine Kelly. I don't know what I done to deserve you, but I's glad I did whatever it was."

"Me, too."

They sat together for several long minutes, relishing the time alone while drawing strength from each other for whatever was to come.

Jack finally stirred. "Guess we should get back? I don't want him left alone, just in case…"

Kat stood. "You go back to him, I'll get fresh water and towels."

He stood and pulled her into his arms and looked down at her, his pillar of strength. "I loves ya, ya know?"

She smiled up at him. "Fer sure?"

He grinned back. "Fer sure." And then, because he just couldn't resist, he kissed her.

* * *

 _ **NOTE: Sorry to add in a commercial here, but I wanted to let you know that I've posted two other stories about Jack and Katherine before they got married: "Fer Sure" and "Castles or Cottages". I might eventually pull them in to be a part of this story, but for now, they're stand-alones. I'd love it if you read them and let me know what you think.**_

 _ **This story about Crutchie is turning out to be longer than I anticipated when he first showed up in my head and said, "What if I got beat up?" Literally, that's how it happened. I had no idea it would be as long as it's turning out to be, but I'm loving where it's taking me. I hope you do, too.**_


	3. Chapter 3: Specs

They worked together for a couple of hours until something woke Albert. They got fresh water and let him take over and settled on the cot. Jack sat up but insisted Kat lie down, using his leg as a pillow. He untied her braid and combed her hair with his fingers, an act that soothed her to sleep.

She felt as though she'd just fallen asleep when she was being shaken awake by a very worried Albert. "Kat! Jack! Wake up!" his voice was urgent, but low, not wanting to wake the other newsies if it wasn't necessary.

Jack sat up right away. "What's the matter? What's wrong?"

"It's Crutchie!"

As gently as he could, Jack moved out from under Kat's head and went to the bed. What parts of Crutchie that weren't bruised were flushed bright red. He was restless, with his arms and legs twitching and his head moving from side to side. He was mumbling something Jack couldn't quite understand. Jack pressed a hand to Crutchie's forehead and quickly drew it back. "Jesus! He's burnin' up!"

"Yeah. It started 'bout thirty minutes ago I guess? When the clock struck is when I noticed it at least, and he's just started the mumblin' and twitchin'."

"Watch him," Jack ordered and turned to the cot. "Kat," he shook her shoulder. "Kat, wake up. Crutchie's gotten worse."

She sat up and gave a sleepy yawn. "What's happened?" she asked in a sleep-heavy voice.

"Crutchie's burnin' up."

Alarmed, she scooted off the cot with a hand from Jack. She felt Crutchie's skin on his head, arms, chest, and legs. Jack was right, Crutchie was definitely burning up.

She looked at both guys. "Jack, I need Greta—don't yell in panic and beat down her door—just let her know I need her. Wake Charles, too, and send him to get Dr. Morrison again." He nodded.

"Albert, wake the others—gently, like I just told Jack, OK?—we don't need any panicking here—stay calm and cool-headed. I'll need the large tub set up in the kitchen and filled with water. Don't heat it up, just get it straight from the sink. Have someone get as many towels from upstairs as they can, then all of you come back here to help move Crutchie to the kitchen."

Both guys set about their assigned tasks while Kat resumed placing cool cloths on Crutchie's forehead and chest in the hopes that they would help.

Greta soon arrived, a pair of trousers in hand. She and Jack got Crutchie dressed while Kat and Annie checked on the progress of things in the kitchen. Doc and Charles showed up just as the boys got Crutchie moved to the kitchen on the oilcloth sling.

"Lower him into the water, but only his body, leave his arms and legs out," Doc instructed. "Hold him there." He and Greta poured water over Crutchie's shoulders and chest.

Kat felt so useless, not able to do anything to help. She and Annie stood to the side and watched Doc and the others work with Crutchie. Charles stoked the fire and stove, setting up water to make coffee. Jack moved to where the girls stood. He gave Kat a hug, then pulled Annie into his embrace, too.

When Crutchie began to shiver, Doc had them move him to the table. "The pants have got to go," he commanded. "They'll keep him too cold and wet. A towel will work to preserve any modesty that needs preserving."

Charles placed himself between Jack and the girls to remove Crutchie's pants and moved away only after Greta had dried him and covered him with a towel.

"This table needs to be closer to the fire," Greta instructed. Kat and Annie moved the benches and chairs out of the way so that the newsies, Charles, and Jack could lift the heavy table and place it so that Crutchie could feel the fire's heat. Greta looked at her daughter, "Blankets."

Annie ran from the room to gather them.

Greta looked at Kat. "He needs his ma."

Throughout the night, Crutchie alternately shivered with cold or complained about being too hot. When he was hot, they lowered him into the tub. When he began shivering, they moved him to the table beside the fire. It was when he was coldest that he called out for his mother. Kat would sit on the table with Crutchie's head in her lap, soothing away his fears. Doc, Greta, and Charles sat on a bench near Crutchie's feet, snagging cat naps between times when Crutchie got too hot. At the other end of the table, the newsies had formed a loose circle with the other bench and some chairs. They were quiet, but didn't seem inclined to sleep until they knew Crutchie was going to pull through.

"Ma?"

"I'm here."

"You OK?"

"Yes, sweetheart, I'm fine."

"Oh. That's good, cause you fell after Pa hit you and you never got up. The cops took him away, but I hid so they couldn't take me, too. Can I come be with you, ma? I miss you so much."

"Oh, sweetheart, I wish you could."

"But I'm all alone here, Ma." Tears ran down into his hair. "No one can see me 'cept you. I'm so lonely."

"I'm with you, honey. Always."

The next time he spoke with his mother, there was a sense of hope in his voice that hadn't been there before.

"Ma, I met a boy today."

"Did you?"

"His name's Jack. He gave me a whole nickel!" He spoke with reverence about his newly acquired wealth. "Do you think he'll be my friend?"

Kat looked up at a startled Jack and smiled. "I'm sure he will, sweetheart, you're such a likeable boy."

"He let me wear his coat today. I was so cold."

"That was nice of him."

"Will he be my friend? Maybe someone as good as him won't want a friend who can't walk good."

"I think he'll like you just fine."

"I hope he'll be my friend…" his voice trailed off as he fell asleep once more.

All eyes turned to an embarrassed Jack. "Yeah, I was his friend. Still am," he said defensively.

"We knows that," Race rolled his eyes. "Wanna add some more details for us?"

"Nothin' to tell. He was cold and hungry. I got him a coat and some food. We's friends."

"What's my story?" asked Specs.

Jack looked at him. "Whacha mean?"

"How do you tell the story of how we met?"

"I don't."

"But if you was to tell it…"

Jack huffed impatiently. "You was a rotten thief, so's I taught ya how to sell papes so ya didn't have to steal no more."

Specs chuckled. "There's a lot more to it than that."

Everyone turned to Specs.

"It wasn't nothin'," insisted Jack.

"It was everythin'," Specs refuted.

Jack said nothing, just stared at the floor.

Specs addressed the small group staring at him. "My sister'd just died and I wasn't goin' back home, but I had no idea how to live on the streets. It was summer, so I wasn't cold, but I was hungry. Been on my own 'bout a month or so, I s'pose; when you're alone, scared, and hungry, a week seems like a month, so's I don't know how long it really was before Jack found me.

 _I was in a alley, tripped over something tryin' to get away from some guys who thought beatin' up kids was fun when Jack walked in there, scared 'em off somehow. Don't know how 'cause he was smaller than all of 'em, but they up and left and there I was, all alone with just one person bigger than me that I didn't know._

" _Got a name, kid?"_

" _Octavius."_

" _Gotta do better than that or you'll always be gettin' busted. Let me think on it. Hungry?"_

 _I nodded and he took me to Jacobi's and got me lunch. I knocked over my water, spilled my soup, and dropped my spoon on the floor._

" _You blind, kid?"_

" _Nope."_

" _How many fingers you see?"_

 _I looked at Jack's hand, his very blurry hand. "Four?"_

" _Jesus!" he muttered. He pointed to a sign by the door. "Read that."_

 _I did. He held up his hand again. "How many?"_

" _Um, three?"_

" _Two," Jack told me. "Both times. Two fingers. How'd you get this far only seein' stuff far off?"_

 _I shrugged. "I walk into things a lot. Trip over stuff. Don't matter. I'm used to it."_

" _Ya wanta go to jail?"_

" _No!"_

" _Well, I seen ya around here and there and ya ain't a very good thief. You won't never be a good thief if ya can't see what you's tryin' to steal. You'll end up in jail if ya don't find somethin' else."_

" _What else is there?"_

" _You can sell papes."_

" _What's papes?"_

" _Newspapers. Bein' a newsie is a good job for a boy. No one asks ya no questions. If ya shows up, ya buys papes to sell. If ya don't show up, no one cares, but ya won't make any money, neither. But ya gotta be able to read the papes before ya can sell 'em."_

" _But I ain't never sold nothin' before."_

" _I can show ya what to do. Where ya been sleepin' nights?"_

" _Uhm…"_

" _Come on, we'll get you in at The Lodge. They's always gots empty beds. Might be they can help with your eyes, too."_

 _Jack put a nickel and five pennies on the table as we left. "First thing ya gotta know is where to eat. You's can always eat supper at The Lodge. It's six cents a meal, and the food's fillin' but not always the best. And if you miss suppertime, you miss the food. The Sisters'll give you somethin' to get started in the mornin'. It ain't much, but it's free. Lunch is on your own if you can afford it. Jacobi is great. Newsies can gets soup and bread and either seltzer or milk for a nickel. If you gets water to drink, it's just four cents. I always leaves him an extra penny for his troubles. And he's always good for a free glass of water. There's other places, too, and I'll show 'em to ya when we sees 'em."_

" _Uh, what's The Lodge?"_

" _Newsboys' Lodging House," Jack explained as we turned a corner. "More'n newsies stays there, so I don't know why it's called the Newsboys' Lodging House, but it's a place to sleep that's not on the streets. It's six cents a night plus you hafta go to the school classes, and if ya can't get there before the doors close for the night, you's out on the street."_

" _And they'll let me in?"_

" _Yeah. We'll ask Old Bill–he's the guy in charge–'bout what to do for your eyes. He's real smart."_

 _So he took me to The Lodge and Old Bill found a Sears & Roebuck catalog. He helped me take the test to figure out which glasses I'd be needin'. He said the folks who run The Lodge, for special stuff like this, they pay half and did I have my half? My share came to about twenty cents. I didn't even have a penny. But Jack paid it. I was shocked. I figured he must be really rich because he'd already bought my lunch._

" _No big deal," he scoffed. "Just stick with me 'til they gets here. I'll teach ya how to sell papes then you can pay me back once you's on your own."_

 _And that's just what he did. Crutchie and him, and Race, too, taught me the tricks to get people to buy papes, how to save enough to eat and buy the next day's papes, and where to buy good clothes real cheap. He really only had one rule: don't steal. "We has a hard enough life without gettin' the Bulls always starin' and watchin' and waitin' for a reason to arrest us. The Refuge is not where you want to be."_

"When the glasses finally got there, they worked! It was kinda scary at first 'cause I was so used to not bein' able to see stuff up close. I think Crutchie was the first one to call me Specs, but it was tons better than Octavius, so I didn't care."

Everyone laughed.

Kat looked at Jack, who was studiously ignoring everyone by concentrating on Crutchie. She had known he had a soft, caring heart under the gruff demeanor he'd developed living on the streets, but she'd had no idea that his closest friends had actually been "adopted" by him.

She leaned over to kiss his cheek. "You are incredible," she whispered in his ear.

He blushed, and the corners of his mouth tipped up slightly, but his focus remained on his friend.


	4. Chapter 4: Romeo

"Jack, how'd you meet Crutchie?" Romeo asked.

Everyone waited with bated breath, but Jack did not respond.

Race broke the silence "I don't know where or how Jack found him, but I remember the first time I seen him.

 _It was cold, real cold, so must've been December, maybe January, I think, 'cause I was fussin' over the new shoes The Lodge gave me for Christmas. I'd gotten mud on them that day, so I was cleanin' 'em when Jack walked in with a bundle of rags. Least that's what it looked like at the time._

" _Whacha got, Jack?" I asked but he didn't say nothin'. Just walked straight to Old Bill. Bill peeked under the rags, then him and Jack disappeared. I didn't see Jack again for a week or so, but that weren't so unusual. When I saw him again, he was helpin' a pipsqueak of a kid with a bum leg walk. Kid looked like he was near about dead, but Jack made him walk around some every day. Pretty soon the kid was lookin' better._

 _If we stays at The Lodge at night, we has to go to the classes, but there's nothin' that says we hafta stay there; it's our choice. But it was dead winter and that kid couldn't sleep outside—it'd kill him for sure—so Jack stays at The Lodge, goin' to the classes with the kid, and that's when he got to be real good at sellin' papes._

 _Now, anyone can sell a pape, but a good newsie has to be able to read the pape so's he knows what he's sellin'. Me, I could read the words good enough to sell me some papes, but Jack understood what all the words meant when they was strung together. He started readin' the whole paper, not just the headlines. It was amazin'! He had some guys who'd pay him extra just to chat about the articles. And they wasn't always namby-pamby how-de-do conversations neither. Sometimes they shouted at each other, but the gents always seemed to like it and walked away with a smile on their face._

 _And the ladies! Whoo-eee! He was popular with the ladies! Since he read the whole thing, he knew about all the social stuff and gossip and if a lady passed by, he'd hawk the social news at her and nearly every time they's bought a pape. Then he grew into hisself a bit and started keepin' clean and the ladies stuck around for chattin' after they's bought their papes._

 _Got to be Jack was outsellin' us all, doing 75-100 papes, or more, everyday without breakin' a sweat. It was amazin' to watch and he let me hang around him, too. Didn't even care if I stole his tricks, but he told me the best thing I could do was go to the classes at The Lodge and take a bath._

 _What'd I have to lose? So I tried it and sure 'nough, it worked! I never got to be as good as Jack—but there ain't no one smart as him, 'cept maybe Davey, and we didn't know him yet back then—but I was still sellin' a lot more papes than usual every day, too. And, trust me on this,the ladies sure do loves a guy who can talk social to them._

 _Pretty soon, the kid was lookin' better, so's Jack started takin' him out, teachin' him how to sell papes. He had a hard time of it at first 'cause he was scared of everyone but Jack. But people'd see Jack and me helpin' him walk and we sold more papes than ever. That kid's bum leg was a gold mine! And he was a charmer! Didn't say much, but his smile lit the Bowery! Folks ate it up, I tell ya._

 _You shoulda seen him the first time Jack gave him his share of the money: he didn't have no idea what was goin' on. Jack told him, 'You helps do the work, you gets paid.' It was only 'bout thirty-five cents or so but you'd'a thunk he was rich as Pulitzer._

' _Is it enough for a crutch?' he wanted to know._

' _Dunno, Kid," Jack told him. 'I'll have to check around. Meantime you hold on to that and don't lose it.'_

 _Kid's clothes wasn't nothin' but holes held together by threads, so Jack ended up holdin' on to it for him, but you could see a difference in him after that. Stood a little taller, when he could stand; sat straighter when he couldn't. He took to sellin' papes like he was born to it. Did everythin' Jack did, on top of the bum leg and that smile._

 _Pretty soon Jack found him a crutch and once he got the hang of walkin' on his own, there wasn't no stoppin' him. He was lookin' good, too, what with regular meals and the exercise, but he's always been on the puny side so long as I's known him and he catches every sniffle that comes his way._

 _But he's a good kid. There's some as'll use a gimp leg to get outta stuff, but Crutchie always worked out how to do everythin' we did, even with a crutch. Never even thought to use it as an excuse not to do somethin'. More like he hated havin' it get in the way, so he did what he could to keep up with us without lettin' that crutch tell him what he could or couldn't do. He's 'bout the nicest guy I know. Can't think why anyone would wanta hurt him._

Race's voice trailed off.

They all sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts and memories of Crutchie, before eventually dozing off sitting up in their chairs. Greta and Charles had long since retired to their own rooms, since Crutchie seemed to have stabilized; Doc was asleep on the couch in the front parlor.

Kat fell asleep leaning against Jack's back. She woke when Jack moved. She saw the first rays of dawn peeking in through the windows. "Jack?"

He didn't answer, his focus on Crutchie.

That's when she noticed Crutchie was stirring again. She prepared to resume her role as his mother, but stopped when Crutchie spoke.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Jack, don't leave me."

"I won't."

"I don't like him. He looks mean."

"He's O.K."

"Can't I please go with you again? I'll sell more papes, I promise."

"Yeah. Come with me. You can sell the papes."

Crutchie settled down with a happy sigh, but it didn't last long. He was soon shivering again.

"Ma?"

Kat tucked blankets around Crutchie's shivering body. "I'm here, sweetie," she crooned.

"Ma, I'm so cold. Where'd Jack go? Why'd he leave me? I promise I'll sell more papes. I promise."

"Jack's right here, sweetheart. He never left."

"Jack?"

"Yeah."

"Can't I please come back with you? I promise I'll sell more papes and I'll learn to walk and I won't get in the way. I promise."

"Yeah, kid. You can come back with me. You don't even have to sell any papes. I won't make you leave again."

"Promise? Really?"

"Yeah. I promise."

Crutchie sighed in relief. "I'm glad because Mr. MacGruder is not a very nice person."

"He's O.K."

"No. He threw stuff at me and let his friends kick me. He took all the money I got, so's I didn't get nothin' to eat today, and I's really cold."

"Here ya go, ya can wear my coat." Jack added another blanket to those covering Crutchie.

"You're the best friend I ever had, Jack. I promise not to get in the way."

"You won't never get in the way! You hear me? Never!"

Crutchie had drifted back to sleep, but Jack hunched over him, trying to get him to acknowledge his vows.

He ignored Kat's efforts to get him to move away from Crutchie. She sent a pleading look to Race, who grabbed Jack's elbows and pulled him back away from Crutchie.

"Jack, he's sleepin'. He can't hear you."

Jack let Race pull him away then shrugged out of Race's grasp. He went to the kitchen window to look out at the morning sun, scrubbing at his eyes.

Race ventured to break the silence. "That Tippy Mac he was talkin' 'bout?"

"Yeah."

"I never knew you set Crutchie up with him."

"Well it didn't work out too good, did it?"

"Who's Tippy Mac?" Kat asked.

"Really bad news," Romeo said with a shiver.

"A thug with no soul," Albert offered.

"A mean-hearted son-of-a—" Race began.

Jack pinned Race with a sharp look. Kat might be family and just one of the guys, but Jack allowed no cursing around her. Ever.

"—gun," Race finished.

Specs filled in the details. "He's the leader of the Boot Blacks, a vicious group of shoe shiners. He runs his turf with an iron fist and a set of steel boots."

"Like Spot Conlon, only without the charm," Albert inserted.

Chuckles peppered the room.

"He gots 'initiations' kids on his turf gotta do to prove they's worthy to shine shoes in that area," Specs continued.

"Yeah, and ain't none of the initiations easy or painless," Romeo added, rubbing his stomach. "He'd see a bum leg as a weakness and pick on him even harder 'cause he couldn't defend hisself."

"I didn't know any of that when I left Crutchie with him!" Jack all but shouted. "I thought he was just a kid who could show Crutchie a few tricks of the trade. Shoe shinin' wouldn't take so much walkin' as sellin' papes!"

Romeo walked over to Jack. "It's O.K., Jack. Tippy Mac hides it real good. It ain't 'til he thinks no one's watchin' that he turns into a monster. No one blames you, not even Crutchie. Fact is, he's told me he's glad it happened 'cause then you knew what to look for."

"Yeah, right," Jack uttered doubtfully.

"And if you didn't know what to look for, you couldn't'a helped me," Romeo's voice cracked.

Jack pulled him into a hug. "Yeah, kid." Jack ruffled his hair and let him go. "You's OK, now."

"But I wouldn't'a been," Romeo insisted.

Jack said nothing. Romeo looked forlornly at Kat who beckoned him to sit next to her. She wrapped a comforting arm around him.

"So, what happened?" Albert wanted to know.

"My folks was long since dead and I didn't like the home I was at, so I ran away. I made it fine for a while stealin' a little here and there. Tippy Mac caught me one day and told me he could teach me how to earn real money so's I wouldn't have to steal no more. Worked out fine, 'cept he kept most of my money. Said it was the fee for teachin' me and not rattin' me out to the cops.

"One day, I bought a sandwich 'cause I was so hungry. When Tippy Mac came by to get his share, he saw I was a nickel short and he got real mad. Said as how it was time for another lesson. He took me into a alley with some of his goons and—" Kat hugged him close as his voice caught. Though it'd been more than a year ago, the pain and fear of that day was still raw, so he tried not to think about it.

"And what?" Albert prodded. "As if I couldn't guess what the slime ball did."

"Let's just say Romeo's 'lesson' involved boots and brass knuckles and leave it at that." Jack finished Romeo's story and turned to look at the group of people all looking at him.

"Slime like that oughta be stomped into the ground for good," Albert hissed in disgust.

"They was," Romeo told him.

"Yeah?" the newsies chorused in awe.

"Stop it, you guys!" Jack protested. "Yeah, I busted some heads gettin' Romeo outta there, but I ain't no saint, so you's just need to stop telling stories about me that make me seem so good. Cause I ain't." He turned back to the window. "I ain't." The pain in his voice was tangible.

Kat went to him and slipped her arms around his waist. He held on to her as though he'd fall right through the floor if she wasn't there.


	5. Chapter 5: Crutchie

After several long moments, Jack loosened his hold on Kat and tucked her into his chest. He took a deep breath. It was time, he supposed, to tell them what they wanted to know. But it was hard. And it started long before he met Crutchie.

"I had me a brother once," he began softly.

The silence was suddenly so complete, so still, as to be nearly tangible. Hardly anyone dared to breathe for fear of breaking the mood and causing Jack to stop. He respected everyone's right to keep their stories to themselves, and he never talked about his own past.

 _Eddie. That was his name. I was four or five when he was born. Ma, she was sick, so sick, nearly the whole time she carried him. My old man, he'd get up before the sun to go to work, come home to take care of Ma and me, then hit the street again to another job._

 _When Eddie was born, there weren't a prouder Pop nowhere. He stayed home a couple days and held Eddie almost the whole time. And when he wasn't holding Eddie, he was holdin' me. "You's a big brother now," he told me. "You gotta protect little Eddie." I promised but it weren't a hard promise to make. Eddie was a happy kid, smilin' almost from birth._

 _Ma never really got better, even after Eddie was born. She was tired all the time so she showed me how to take care of Eddie. Pop did what he could but he was working so much and with food and rent and such, there weren't much left over for a doctor._

 _Ma held on as long as she could, but the sickness took her just after Eddie turned two. Pop was near about done in. He loved us boys somethin' fierce, but Ma was his world. Sometimes he'd gather us all up in a hug and say how he must be the richest man in the whole world. Ma would laugh at him and remind him they was poor as church mice. Then he'd swing me around and say that was true enough, but who ever had such a fine son as me? And he'd put his arms around Ma and say he was the envy of everyone he knew for marryin' the prettiest girl on the Bowery stage and stealin' her away. Then he'd dip her backwards and say, "Annabelle Sue, I sure do loves you," and he'd give her a great big kiss. She musta liked it, or else she was just afraid of fallin', 'cause she always held on tight to his neck and kissed him back. When he stood her up again, she was always a pretty shade of pink. Lookin' back, I don't think he ever really figured out what to do without her._

 _I was in charge of Eddie, of course, but I already was with Ma so sick, so that weren't a problem. But durin' the summer, one of the places Pop was workin' burnt down and he couldn't find another job to replace it no matter how hard he looked. That winter, we tried keepin' warm with just our clothes and blankets 'cause there wasn't no money to buy wood for the stove._

 _Little Eddie caught a cold that winter and it never went away. He coughed a lot and his lips and fingers turned blue. He shivered all the time, even when I gave him my coat and blankets. I kept hopin' he could hold on 'til spring, when it gets warmer, but he died before that, just a couple months after he turned three._

 _Pop just didn't know what to do. He acted like he didn't know who he was or where he was anymore. I could tell him somethin' or ask him a question and it'd be like he didn't hear me. Then, when he did, he seemed surprised I was there. He was that way at work, too, and he got hurt 'cause he wasn't payin' attention, so they fired him. Then we got kicked out of the apartment 'cause we didn't have money for rent._

 _There were times when he'd be my old Pop and I knew he still loved me fierce, but he didn't know how to stay that way. He was walkin' to someplace to see 'bout a job when he got hit by a delivery wagon and died._

 _Miss Medda was my ma's friend from when they was on the stage together, before Ma and Pop got married. She took me in as good as she could, but she was sharin' a room with another lady, so's I couldn't stay there all the time–this was before she owned the theatre–but she knew a couple newsies good enough to asks them to show me what to do."_

"Anyone we know?" Albert piped in.

Jack's mouth turned up slightly. "I don't know. You ever heard of Spot Conlon?"

"No way!" "Fer real?" "Stop your jokin'!"

"It's the God's honest truth," Jack swore. "He was about my age, but he'd been sellin' papes a while already. Other guy was his older brother, Max, showin' Spot what to do. Few months after I meet them, Max got a job at a factory in Brooklyn where they's from, so they moved back over there. They's the ones what told me about The Lodge and ways to get people to buy papes and such." Jack's fingers dug into Kat's sides. "There's somethin' else they told me about, too: The Refuge.

A shudder ran through the room. Every boy there had spent time in The Refuge and had the nightmares to prove it.

"One day, after sellin' my papes, I sat on the sidewalk to rest my feet and watch the people goin' by. I liked imaginin' what they were like and where they lived. But a cop took exception to my presence there that day and took me straight to The Refuge."

Kat tipped her head back. "The cop? But I thought a judge had to–"

"Snyder's as crooked as they come, Kat, and there's cops in his pocket what get a cut of however much he takes in. The City only asks him how many boys is in residence, not who they are or how they got there. And if someone gets a little nosy, well, then, maybe there's a clerk somewhere in the courthouse that just ain't filed the papers yet."

Kat shuddered. "That is so evil," she muttered, burying her head back in Jack's chest.

He held her close. "Yeah. But because he don't keep records on those the cops bring in, if you's young enough and you escape, he don't work too hard to get ya back, 'cause the cops'll just bring in some other boy to replace you."

"What do you mean by 'young enough'?"

Jack's voice got tight. "Snyder don't care much for the younger boys, 'cept for the money they brings in. He prefers the older ones, the ones who can fight back. He likes the challenge tryin' to break 'em. They escape and he'll search high and low for 'em." His voice got thin with the horrible memories he'd shared with no one, not even Kat. "'Specially if they's a particular favorite of his."

She grasped his face and forced him to look at her. "He _would_ search for you, Jack. _Would_. In the past. He _cannot_ do what he did anymore. He's locked up. You're safe. You're safe here." She kept saying it until the emptiness in his eyes disappeared.

Slowly he became aware of where he was again. He stared into her eyes. Kat–his tether to sanity, to this world. He held on and she reeled him in. He shuddered and wrapped her in a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair. "Oh, God, Kat, it was horrible," he confessed. "How can men like that even exist?"

"Shhh," she soothed. "I don't know, but you're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you." She made him the same promise she'd made to the others, appealing to the frightened little boy inside him.

He relaxed his hold, kissed her, and tucked her under his chin. That was when he noticed four frightened, wide-eyed faces watching them–all of whom had achieved an age old enough to know of the terrors of The Refuge. "I think we should sit down now," he suggested.

She shot him a puzzled look that instantly disappeared when she saw the guys sitting at the table. "Oh, my," she exclaimed as she rushed to them. She did for them as she had just done for Jack. "Race, look at me. Specs, you're safe. Albert? Albert, come back to me now." Romeo latched on to her waist and held on tight. She finger-combed his hair. "You're all safe here. OK? You won't ever have to see him again. He's locked up and The Refuge is closed. You are safe." She caressed cheeks, patted knees, and soothingly cajoled and pestered them until their fright and panic receded. She sat on the bench. Romeo snuggled close on one side, young enough not to care, just wanting the assurance she gave; Specs sat on her other side, not necessarily touching, but close enough, just in case.

"She's right, ya know," Jack sat on the table, flanked by Albert and Race. He shoulder butted Race and patted Albert on the back. They scooted close enough so their knees touched Jack's. "You's all safe here."

"So what happened next, Jack?" asked Romeo.

"What?"

"You were in The Refuge. Did ya get out?"

"Nah, he's still there, you nitwit!" Race playfully cuffed Romeo on the head.

Everyone laughed.

"Yeah. I figured out how to get out. Got put back a couple times over the next year or so. It's where me and Race met, actually." He smiled and bumped his shoulder against Race's.

"Yeah?"

"Yup," Race confirmed. "It was my first time and I was cryin' like a girl–Sorry, Kat–and tryin' not to make any noise 'cause that's the fastest way to get soaked. Jack, here, heard me. He took that bunk, too, 'cause it was two to a bed. All he said was, 'It's OK , kid.'

"I didn't know who he was or even what he looked like, but he wasn't teasin' me for cryin' and he wasn't touchin' me, so I guessed it was OK. In the mornin' he asked if the court sent me or did I get brung in by a cop. I didn't know nothin' 'bout no court, just figured a cop puttin' me there was all the reason to stay I needed, but Jack'd figured it out by then. Showed me how to get out, then he showed me how to sell papes."

"Sounds 'bout right," Jack agreed.

"So, when'd you meet Crutchie?" Albert asked. "He musta been next, 'cause he was with you when you helped me, and I was before Specs and Romeo."

"Yeah," Jack leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as he concentrated on a spot on the floor. "It was winter, a real cold one. I was hurryin' somewhere to get some lunch when I hears a noise. Somethin' 'bout it makes me stop, I don't know why 'cause it was such a soft noise. I look around and see a kid with no coat, wrapped in a pitiful excuse for a blanket. Skin too pale, lips too blue. All I could think of was my kid brother. I didn't know who this kid was, but he coulda been my brother if Eddie'd lived to be six or seven, which is how old this kid looked. I learned later that he was nine."

"How old were you?" someone asked.

"'Bout eleven, best I can figure," he said.

" _Got a penny, mister?" he asked me between shivers._

 _I almost shook my head but stopped. What if it had been Eddie? I'd want someone to give him a penny, for certain. So I gave him a nickel. His eyes got big, like I'd gave him a hundred bucks. "Thanks, mister!"_

 _I nodded and walked away but slower now. I wasn't hungry no more. Instead, I crossed the street and watched the kid. I watched 'til suppertime. No one else gave him nothin'. It was like he was invisible. When it started gettin' dark, he left. But it weren't no easy thing for him. He weren't so used to his bum leg as he is now, and he didn't have no crutch then, neither. He used the wall to pull himself up and sorta hopped along for a while, 'til he tripped and fell on that leg. He hopped and crawled to a livery stable where he waited 'til all the lamps was out before he went in. I peeked through the window. The moon was bright so's I could see him snatch a carrot from one horse and a apple from another before he curled up on the hay next to one of the watch dogs. I went back to The Lodge, but I couldn't forget that kid._

 _The whole time I was sellin' papes the next few days, I was thinkin' of that kid. So I went back. He was still there, but really, where else could he go with that leg? I decides to try and talk to him this time. He asks for a penny and I gives him another nickel. He grins big as day and my heart bursts all to pieces 'cause Eddie used to smile like that, with all of his face. Ain't no other way to describe it. Even when he was so sick and blue with cold, he smiled with all of his face._

" _You got a name, kid?" I asks._

" _Not really."_

" _What? Your folks didn't give ya a name?"_

" _Yeah, but I don't like it."_

" _O.K., Kid." On the street, ya don't asks questions, so I said, "My name's Jack. You cold?"_

" _A little."_

" _Why doncha wear my coat for a bit?"_

" _Don't you need it?"_

" _Nah," I lied, "I'm a little warm right now." I gave the coat to him and he took it, but slowly, prob'ly expectin' me to yank it away at the last second. I didn't, though, and his face just lit up, and in just a few minutes he was shiverin' less, but it never did stop."_

"Ain't no coat gonna stop the shiverin' when you's that cold on the inside," Albert muttered softly.

"Yeah," Jack agreed, "but least ways, he was warmer than he'd been."

Albert nodded.

 _We talked for a bit 'bout nothin' much. Then I says I was hungry, was he?_

" _A little," he said._

 _I had him get the sandwich from my coat pocket and we shared it. We sat there, talkin' 'til it got dark, then he gave me back my coat and said he had to go. I guess he didn't want me to see him try to walk. So's I left, but only to my same spot as before, across the street. He made it to the same stable. I peeked in and he was curled up with the dog again._

 _For a couple of weeks or so, I went to see him at the same place every day after sellin' my papes. I'd bring somethin' to eat that we'd share and I'd tell him about the headlines and the people I met when I was sellin' papes. We talked until suppertime, when he'd give me back my coat and I'd leave to watch him in secret make it to the stable._

 _For Christmas, The Lodge gave me a new coat, so I gave my old one to the Kid. It was too big on him, and already secondhand when I got it a year ago, but you'd a thought I'd given him a spankin' new fur coat or somethin'. He said thank you over and over again 'til I had to tell him to shut up about it. Wasn't too long after that I went to see him like usual and he wasn't there."_

"Where'd he go?" asked a worried Romeo.

Jack smiled and ruffled Romeo's hair.

 _I didn't know. I looked all around for him but didn't see him anywhere. Finally, I went to the stable. I didn't want to give him away, but figured a crippled kid would be noticeable when he's in the neighborhood everyday. So I asks if they've seen a kid with a bum leg._

" _Yeah, I seen him," the stable owner wasn't too nice. "I had to come back last night and there he is, sleepin' with my dogs like he owns the joint! Well, he don't, so's I kicked the crippled brat outta here and told him to never come back. I'll be puttin' locks on the doors from now on!"_

" _Where'd he go?"_

" _How the hell do I know? And I don't care, neither. Good riddance."_

" _But it's freezin' cold!"_

" _Well, maybe he's done froze to death and put us all out of his misery."_

" _He wasn't hurtin' nothin'!"_

" _Last I checked, kid, this ain't no hotel. It's a stable, and that brat ain't no horse. Either way, no one stays for free here, and if ya can't pay, ya don't stay!"_

 _Then he pushed me out the door and slammed it shut behind me._

 _I was so afraid. It was too cold for a healthy kid to sleep on the street all night, so I knew he was in trouble, wherever he was, and I had no clue where to start lookin'. My heart was poundin' too hard for me to hear anythin' but the blood rushin' through my head. I didn't want him to be dead. All's I could think of was why didn't I take him to The Lodge all those weeks ago? I coulda been teachin' him to sell papes so's he could stay there. Why'd I leave him beggin' in the street where people ignored him? If he died, it'd be all my fault. I didn't know what to do or where to look, so I just started walkin'. With that leg, he couldn't'a gotten far. I searched and searched, gettin 'more and more afraid I'd never find him. Finally, in a lean-to behind the stable where they keeps the fresh hay, I seen a little bit of blue. Could'a been nothin' but could'a been my old coat I gave to him. I dug through the hay and there he was!"_

"Was he dead?" asked a stricken Romeo.

Everyone chuckled.

"Nah," Jack wiped at the wet streaks on his face. He ruffled Romeo's hair again. "He wasn't dead, but he was near to it. The hay's what kept him warm enough to hold on 'til I found him. Leastways that's what the doc said."

"You took him to a doctor?" Race asked. "Weren't that expensive?"

 _The Kid wasn't my kid brother. Never once thought he was. But he reminded me of Eddie so much that it was like havin' a brother again and that's alls I could think of. I wrapped him in my coat and carried him straight to Old Bill and asked, begged for help. Said I'd pay my half, but I didn't have it all at once, but could pay it a little each day, but please do somethin' to help him._

 _Old Bill didn't say nothin', just took a look at the Kid and hustled us off to the infirmary. I had to go, too, on account of I wouldn't let him carry the Kid. I was afraid if I let him go, he'd leave for good. They tried to make me leave him once he was there, but I wouldn't. One of the nurses, Nurse Lucy, when I told her I'd sleep under his bed so's I wouldn't take up any extra room, she moved him to a bed by a corner wall, put a cot next to the Kid, and pulled a curtain around us so it wasn't so obvious she was lettin' me break the rules._

" _There wasn't no way I was gonna leave the Kid to sell papes 'til I knew he was OK, so she and the other nurses set me to work there. I swept and mopped the floor, cleaned windows, polished the beds, gathered dirty sheets, helped them make the beds, and other stuff like that. Took about a week before he started comin'around for any real bits of time. The doc said he needed exercise, so I started helpin' him walk around, first just in the infirmary, then around that floor. I introduced him to some kids, but he didn't say nothin' to anyone but me. After 'bout another week, he was better–not better enough to leave the infirmary, but enough so's I could sell some papes. I sold 'em fast as I could, but saved one to read to him in the afternoon. I'd tell him stories about the people who bought the papes, like I done before. He fell asleep early each night, and since I wasn't leavin' him again, I started goin' to the classes at night. They was actually pretty interestin' when you went to more than just a couple in a row at a time. The Kid stayed in the infirmary about a month before they said he was good enough to leave, but told me that he shouldn't be outside for too long._

 _Only workin' boys can stay at The Lodge if they wasn't sick, so we got it worked out that Race'd buy my papes every mornin' and then he'd come back and help me get the Kid to a sellin' spot and we'd work the papes, grab some lunch, and head back afterwards, gettin' warm in front of the fire in the common room, eatin' supper at The Lodge, then goin' to classes. By then, the Kid was so tuckered out he was all but asleep in the classroom._

 _Race was right about the Kid gettin' paid that first time. He looked like he was holdin' a million bucks. Nurse Lucy'd got him some new clothes from donations to The Lodge, 'cause what he'd been wearin' weren't worth savin', but they was still old and kinda thin, so I held on to his money for him. But first stop we made was to get him some new clothes. You've never seen someone so proud of his brand new second-hand clothes!_

 _Race already told ya, and I've said it, too, the Kid's smile was bright as the sun. And once he figured out he wasn't gonna be alone again, it was rare that he wasn't smilin'. Between that smile, his bum leg, and me and Race's talent, we sold record numbers of papes in record time. Soon, he had enough to get himself a decent crutch and we spent hours helpin' him learn to walk with it and not fall over. Once he got the hang of it, there wasn't no stoppin' him! I think Race is actually the first person what ever called him Crutchie."_

"Yeah?" chorused the other boys.

Race blushed. "It seemed the thing to say at the time. He tripped over the crack in the sidewalk or somethin' stupid like that, but for the first time, he managed to hobble around on that crutch and his good foot and not fall down. I said somethin' 'bout he was gettin' to be a regular crutchie! He grinned that grin of his, and the name stuck!"

Race nudged Jack's shoulder as they smiled at their memories of early times with Crutchie.

"What about Tippy Mac?" Romeo asked quietly.

A shadow passed over Jack as he gazed down at young Romeo. He took a deep breath. "Yeah. That happened just after he left the infirmary. He had to have a job and newsies does a lot of walkin', and he wasn't too good at that." Jack focused on the spot on the floor again.

 _I'd met this kid Tippy Mac at The Lodge a couple times and he seemed OK to me. I figured that a shoe shiner could set up in one spot and not have to walk as much as a newsie. Tippy said he'd teach the Kid what he needed to know._

 _The Kid didn't want to go, but I wouldn't listen to him. I helped him get to where Tippy said to take him, then went to sell my papes. But I didn't like it. He and I'd been together for a while by now and it didn't feel right for him not to be where I could see him._

 _That night at The Lodge, I seen Tippy Mac, but didn't see any sign of the Kid. Tippy'd said he'd get the Kid back at the end of the day. When I asked him 'bout it, he shrugged and said the Kid had wandered off. I was so mad I could feel my fist itchin' to pound his face! I couldn't do nothin' to him there at The Lodge or I'd get kicked out, so I just got my coat and went to where I'd left the Kid that mornin'. He was till there, huddled by the wall, shiverin', lips turned blue. I wrapped him in my coat and carried him back to The Lodge. Race saw us and cleared off a good spot by the fire and we got the Kid warmed up._

 _I never will understand why he wasn't mad at me 'cause of what I did, but he never was. It took him another week or two before he talked to anyone but me or Race, and he was jumpy at fast motions or loud noises for a long time afterward, but I promised him I'd never leave him alone again._

"Me, too," said Race.

Jack nodded. "So, between the two of us, we got him walkin' and healthy and soon he was sellin' papes on his own."

"Took him a year, though, to sell where he couldn't see one of us," Race added.

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "But I didn't care. I'd gotten used to havin' him around, and I liked it. Crutchie don't know it, but that first week he sold on his own, I followed him and kept an eye out a block or so down the street."

"Me, too," laughed Race. "We musta been on opposite ends of the block!"

"Musta been," Jack chuckled. "But he did OK, and no one bothered him, so I let him keep to it without complainin' too much."

"He did good, too," Race added.

"Yeah. I guess. Still, it was hard to let him go each mornin'. But we got back together in the afternoons at The Lodge. He wasn't never too strong and always seemed to have a sniffle or a cough, so it wasn't 'til the dead of summer that he slept back out on the street. And it weren't no ride in the park, neither. He had nightmares 'bout me leavin' him and bein' all alone again. I told him we could stay at The Lodge, but he was determined to learn to stay outside at night. Eventually, he did, but he never sleeps well when he does."

"I don't, neither," Romeo squeaked, burrowing into Kat.

She squeezed him and kissed the top of his head. "Well, you don't ever have to sleep on the street anymore. "

Romeo raised his head to peer up at her in disbelief. "Fer real? You wasn't just sayin' it to be nice?"

"No, of course not," she exclaimed in surprise. "I really meant it. In fact, I'd be a very happy person if I never heard of any of you sleeping on the street ever again. We'd love for you to stay here."

"Permanent-like?"

"Yeah," Jack said. "Permanent-like."

"Oh, wow," Romeo's eyes widened in wonder. "Wow!"

"You guys, too," Jack looked Race, Specs, and Albert in the eyes. "It's your choice, of course, but you's can stay here permanent, too."

"You sure?" Albert asked, hope in his voice. "Race here says you two is too newly married to want much company."

Jack laughed. "So says the happily married Race, eh?"

Race ducked his head, laughing.

"Don't you's worry none 'bout that," he grinned down at a blushing Kat, hiding her face in Romeo's hair. "You ain't company. You's family."

"Ma?"

Kat looked down at Romeo, surprised that he'd called her that. She'd said she'd be his mother, of course, but she didn't think he'd take it quite so much to heart. She looked up at Jack, who just grinned and shrugged. She looked back down at Romeo. "Yes?"

"Can I sleep on the cot once Crutchie's better?"

"Ummm, no?"

He shrugged. "OK. Them blankets is plenty soft."

"You's such a nitwit," Race lightly cuffed Romeo on the head again. "You ain't gonna be sleepin' on no floor!"

"Where, then?"

"In a bed. Upstairs. Geesh!"

Romeo looked at Kat, then Jack. "Fer real?"

"Yeah, kid. Can't have you clutterin' up the floor. Specs here might trip over you in the middle of the night."

Everyone laughed.

"I thought them rooms was just for company, like when we stays the night every now and then. Didn't never think I'd get to stay in one permanent-like."

"We'd rather they be your permanent rooms than company rooms," Kat assured him. "Why'd you think we wanted a house with so many bedrooms?"

Can I sleep in a room so's I can see the street?" Romeo wanted to know.

"You can pick any bedroom you like," Kat promised.

"'Cept ours," Jack warned.

"Me, I'll sleep in the back, away from any sirens or traffic or outside noises of any sort," Race said. "What a joy it'll be to sleep without sirens," he said dreamily.

Specs pinned Jack with a questioning look. "You sure 'bout this? Five extra people all at once is a lot."

"Truth of it is, I've hated livin' here, sleepin' and eatin' well every day and night when you's are still scrimpin' and scroungin' sellin' papes."

"But, Jack, we's here nearly every day," Albert pointed out.

Jack stood and paced the kitchen. "I knows, but you leave to go back to sleep at The Lodge or on the street while I have a house and a bed of my own. It don't seem fair."

"Not fair would be you not havin' anythin' to do with us again now that you's married a Pulitzer," Race pointed out. He smiled at Kat to let her know he meant no offense.

She smiled and patted his knee to indicate she understood.

"Don't you bring Kat into this," Jack warned.

"You married her. How could she _not_ be brought into it?" Race demanded, hopping down off the table and meeting Jack face-to-face. "All's I'm sayin' is that by marryin' a Pulitzer, you could be livin' in some hoity-toity palace on Fifth Avenue livin' the high-falutin' life and never thinkin' of us again.

"But no, you had the good sense to marry the only normal Pulitzer there is and find a house we can come to. That's all we really wanted, ya know, to be able to visit our friend Jack every now and then. What we got, well..." his voice trailed off.

"What?" Jack demanded defensively. "You're here practically every day! Did ya ever not get somethin' to eat? Did we ever say you couldn't sleep here? No? Then what? What is it you got?" He and Race faced off, nose-to-nose, breathing heavily.

"A home."

"What!" Jack looked at Albert, his expression quickly changing from outrage to incredulity as Albert's words registered. "What?"

Race gently punched Jack's shoulder. "Yeah. That's what we got," he confirmed.

Jack looked around, confused.

Specs explained. "Ain't no kid ever dreams of being a newsie and sleepin' on the street. You knows that."

"Yeah."

"Newsies sells papes 'til they's too old, then they move on to whatever's next, no lookin' back. New kids comes in to replace the old ones, and no one ever really notices the change. If you's there, you's there, otherwise you ain't. No one asks any questions if you just up and disappear. 'Cept for Jack Kelly."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"If you ever get noticed by Jack Kelly, you never get unnoticed. If you up and disappear, he searches for ya. If ya needs a job, he's got one for ya and makes sure you know how to do it good before he lets ya do it alone, and even then, he sneaks around and watches out for ya, makes sure it's goin' like it should."

"Yeah, so," Jack crossed his arms defensively.

"Jack, there ain't a newsie out there who don't dream of gettin' back what they lost or somehow findin' what they never had to begin with. For a very select few," he spread his arms to include himself and the other newsies, "you gave us a taste of that. I've watched the other groups that form around The Lodge and on the street. There ain't no one who cares as much for the guys in his group as you do."

"Shut up," Jack's face was turning red.

Specs chuckled. "Nope. You need to hear this 'cause you think you ain't good, but you's one of the best people I've ever met. I don't know if you ever noticed, but the number of kids who followed you was bigger than most all of the other groups out there put together. And they looked to you because you cared. No one in your group ever got beat up just for fun or had to pay enormous sums just for the honor of being in your group or anything else like that. That's why when the strike happened, everyone just naturally looked to you because we all knowed you were only gonna do what was the best thing for us all. You never cheated no one before, why would you now?

"And for those of us who got to know you better than all the others did, you weren't just a leader, you was family." Specs waited until Jack looked at him. "You was the big brother we all wanted, that we all dreamed about."

Jack walked to look out the kitchen window.

"That you moved on to bein' somethin' besides a newsie ain't unusual. We'll all be doin' it someday. What's different is that you didn't leave us behind. No, somehow you found a girl that loves us as much as you do, and wants us to be part of her family, too. We's here every day because you's family. But there ain't a one of us who hasn't dreamed of livin' here at Kelly House."

"So why haven't you?" Kat asked.

"I don't know, exactly," Specs told her. "It's not like we'd ever think you'd say no. More like the way it was was so close to the real thing, that to ask for more might make it go away?"

"You's all stupid," Jack declared.

"Maybe," Albert agreed, "but who'd'a figured a couple so newly married would want a passel of grown boys hanging around all day _and_ all night? Bein' here so much durin' the day was near a dream come true. Even if we didn't stay the night, we knew Kelly House was here if we needed it."

"Kelly House, eh?" Jack smiled.

"Yeah. Makes it easier to say where you's gonna be or where you was."

"Well, gentlemen," Kat announced, "let me start by pointing out that if a millionaire's daughter can marry a newsie, then it shouldn't be hard to imagine that they'd want their patchwork family to live with them."

The boys mulled that over, beginning to warm to the idea.

"You've all pointed out how Jack is a protector. Well, I ask you, how can he protect you the way you're used to him protecting you if you aren't here with him?" She looked around at the group, letting that tidbit sink in, too. "Guys, he wants you here as much as you want to be here. I do, too. So, let me borrow a little bit of Jack's proposal technique," she grinned as Jack's head snapped up. " _You know_ we want you to live here, right?"

They nodded.

" _We know_ that you want to live here."

A chorus of tentative "yeahs" echoed through the room.

"Good. Then, I'll ask outright. Please guys, will you move in with us so that we don't have to worry quite so much about you each and every night?"

"Yes!" shouted Romeo as he plunged into Kat's arms.

Everyone laughed.

"Well, seems to me it'd be rude to refuse such a generous invitation," Race pointed out in his best hoi-polloi voice. "So's I guess I'll say yes, too."

"Can I learn to cook?" asked Albert.

Jack grabbed him in a headlock and knuckle-rubbed his head. "Yeah, if you ain't a pest about it."

Albert pulled his head free and punched Jack in the arm. "Then OK. I'm in."

"Me, too," said Specs with a shy grin.

"Crutchie, too?" Romeo wanted to know.

"He ain't got no choice," Jack said. "After what he's put me through three times now, I ain't lettin' him go nowhere ever again." He walked over to check on his friend. "Hey, he's all wet!"

Everyone rushed to surround Crutchie. "Kat, what's happenin'?" Jack asked.

"I don't know. Someone go get Doc."


	6. Chapter 6: Brothers Reunited

Charles, Doc, Greta, and Annie had long since gone to bed, knowing they'd need to be up in the morning, and the newsies were doing a good job keeping an eye on Crutchie.

After a thorough examination, Doc declared that the fever had broken and Crutchie was definitely on the mend. He and Jack got Crutchie cleaned up and dressed in a nightshirt while Kat and the others went back to Crutchie's room.

Kat helped them gather up their makeshift beds. "Are you guys going to be OK sleeping upstairs now? You can stay downstairs if you want to."

"Nah, Doc says Crutchie's in the clear. I, for one, would like a nice soft bed under me right now." Race declared. "Just promise to come and get me if anything happens."

"I will." She led the way upstairs. "Do you want to pick your rooms out now, or just sleep somewhere and do the choosing later?"

Now that the need to worry about Crutchie was over, the boys were fading fast, so Kat made the decision for them. She picked the first two rooms to the left of the staircase. She put Race and Albert in the first one and Romeo and Specs in the one next to it. She helped the guys in the second room put their beds in some semblance of order before they fell in and were quickly asleep. She tucked them in anyway. Back in the first room, Albert and Race had fallen onto the beds still holding their bedding. She laughed quietly and got them awakened enough to take it from them. She let them sleep directly on the mattresses, covering them with blankets and tucking them in before she left.

Kat was yawning herself as she headed back down the stairs. "Well, they're all tucked in and sound asleep," she announced softly to Jack who was sitting on the bed next to Crutchie, holding on to his friend's hand. His shoulders were shaking.

She tugged at his shoulders. "Jack, come here." She reached around and pulled Crutchie's hand from his grasp. "Jack," she got in his line of vision. "Jack, listen to me." He looked blankly at her. "Come on. Come with me," she pulled on both of his hands to get him to stand. He looked panicked. "No, we aren't leaving Crutchie. We're just going to the cot, right here." She pushed him to sit down on the cot, his back against the wall and she sat next to him. "Now, let's relax while we keep an eye on Crutchie." She wrapped his arm around her and laid her head on his shoulder.

Too exhausted to sleep, she stared blankly into space, stirring only when she heard a loud sniffle. She looked up. Jack's head was tipped back against the wall. His eyes were squeezed shut, but they could not hold back the tears that were streaming down his face. "Oh, Jack," she crooned, shifting to take him into her arms. At her touch, the events of the night finally caught up to him and he quickly and completely fell to pieces. He pulled her onto his lap and buried his face in her neck as the heartbreak and emotional turmoil of the night wracked his body. She silently cried with him, her heart breaking for all he had been through, wishing his life up until now had been so much different than it had been; she vowed the remainder of his life would be better than anything he'd known since his family had died. She combed her fingers through his hair, crooning reassurances, letting him know she was there for him and always would be.

When the worst of the storm was over, he relaxed his hold, kissed her on the temple and tucked her into his chest, loving the way she felt in his arms, against his body.

She wrapped her arms around him. "I love you so much, Jack Kelly," she whispered.

He squeezed her. "Even when I bawl like a baby?"

She looked up at him. "You had to do that."

He scoffed.

She shifted to kneel beside him. "It's true. If you hadn't, you might have exploded."

"Hah!"

"Not literally, you nitwit," she smiled, "but I have seen it happen. Guys, men, think that crying is a sign of weakness, so they bottle up all their emotions, and then one day they lash out, hurting those around them with words and actions."

"I'd never hurt you, Kat," he vowed.

"I know," she caressed his cheek and smiled tenderly into his eyes. "I know because you are strong enough to cry."

"Strong? You got to be kiddin' me."

"Jack, if you don't release the hurt inside you, it grows and festers, creating frustration and anger. When you cry, the tears cleanse your soul of everything hurtful and dark, leaving a clean, blank canvas waiting for happiness and bright, clean colors."

He gazed at her while he took in her words. "I like that. Yeah. That's nice. But I ain't gonna go around cryin' every day."

She laughed. "You don't need to. You don't even have to cry in front of anyone. Just know that it takes strength to understand that the darkness inside needs to be erased from time to time. That's all."

"I loves you, too."

Tears of happiness escaped and trickled down her cheeks.

"You don't like that?"

She shook her head. "No. I mean, yes, I do like that, but no, the tears are not of sorrow this time. Sometimes the happiness swells up so high, it leaks out." She grinned sheepishly.

"So, you cries when you's sad _and_ when you's happy?"

She nodded. "Mmm-hmm." She couldn't hide her grin.

"You don't make sense sometimes, ya know?"

She nodded.

"But I'll takes ya how I can get ya." He cradled her face in his hands and brought her close to kiss her tenderly, gently. He looked over at Crutchie. "How's he doin'?"

"Still the same, I guess."

Jack went to sit on the bed. "He definitely ain't hot no more. He seems to be breathin' easier, too."

Kat stood behind Jack and draped her arms around him. "He does look better," she agreed.

He held on to her hands, but kept his focus on his friend. "He means a lot to me," he confessed quietly.

"I know," she whispered beside his ear.

"Everythin' I said when I told 'bout how we met and got to be friends was true. But I didn't tell no one that when we met, I was so alone that I was thinkin' 'bout figurin' out how to join my family. I don't think I'd've actually done anythin', ya know? But I missed 'em all so terrible much that I didn't know what to do to make the hurt go away." He sniffled a couple of times, brushed a few tears off his face. "Then I hears that little mouse whisper next to some stairs on a busy New York street. No one else heard it, so why did I? Best I can figure, Crutchie was given to me, so I have to take care of him, but I ain't done too good a job, so I hope whoever gave him to me don't take him away, too."

"Jack, you listen to me now, and you listen good," Kat said firmly, moving around to face him, forcing him to turn to look at her, settling between his knees so he couldn't turn away. She held his face in her hands. "You have done a magnificent job not only with Crutchie but with all the other boys, too. You did the best you could with each and every one of them. You were only eleven when you met Crutchie and you made the best choices a lonely young boy could make. Crutchie doesn't blame you for them; you shouldn't blame yourself."

"She's right, ya know?" a creaky, soft voice chimed in.

"Crutchie!" Jack didn't try to hide the tears of relief this time. He grabbed his friend's hand. "How're ya feelin'?"

Crutchie tried to laugh, but coughed instead. "I think I'm OK. Might have to stay the night, though, I'm a little wrung out."

They all laughed.

"Uh, Crutchie, you gots two broke legs."

"Maybe two nights?"

Jack shook his head in disbelief. "You'll be stayin' longer than that. I ain't lettin' ya go again. Bad things happen to ya when we splits up. This old man can't handle that any more."

"You's crazy," Crutchie protested, his weary grin lighting up his face.

"Maybe so," Jack admitted, "but don't you leave me again."

"With two broke legs, I ain't goin' nowhere anytime soon." He coughed again.

Kat sat behind him to offer support while Jack helped Crutchie drink some water.

"I hurts all over," Crutchie said as he lay back on plumped up pillows. "What happened?"

"The guys don't really know. They heard a fight, but when they got there, all they saw was three thugs soakin' ya, but they ran off when the guys got there. They was great, though. Didn't waste no time goin' after the thugs, they just scooped ya up and brung ya here."

"I gotta remember to thank 'em one day." Crutchie took in a deep, tired breath.

"Won't be hard," Jack told him. "They's moved in."

Crutchie's eyes shot open. "They's what?"

Jack grinned. He hadn't stopped to think about that part of the night until this moment. "Race and Albert and Specs and Romeo. They's the ones that brung ya. They wouldn't leave while we didn't know if you was OK or not, then, when we was waitin' for ya to kick the fever, they agreed to stay for good. They's upstairs sleepin' off the night right now."

"You want 'em here?"

"Course I do!" Jack was indignant and confused. "When did I never want any of ya's around?"

"But that was when we was all newsies," Crutchie protested. "You ain't now."

"I'm _always_ gonna be a newsie," Jack stated. "Ain't no other job I ever have can erase that. And I run the Newsboy Union. How can someone who ain't a newsie do that? And besides," Jack pinned Crutchie with a fierce glare, daring him to contradict, "we may have started together as newsies, but we became a family, and that's bigger and more important than just bein' newsies. And family sticks together no matter what. So, they ain't goin' nowhere and neither is you, even when your legs ain't broke no more. Ya got that?" His voice cracked and he blinked back the crocodile tears that threatened when he thought of Crutchie leaving.

Crutchie grinned in tired relief. "If you's sure."

Jack frantically reached for his wallet and realized he didn't have it with him. "You just wait right there," he commanded, pointing at Crutchie.

Crutchie chuckled, "Where could I go?"

Jack turned to dash out of the room, but bumped into Kat who was just coming in. He hadn't even realized that she'd left the room. He grabbed her arms to keep her from falling as he made to leave, but she stopped him with a tug on his arm. He looked down impatiently, then grabbed the wallet she held up, and ran back to Crutchie's side. He rifled through his wallet and pulled out a piece of paper. "Here, you look at this." He unfolded the paper and thrust it at Crutchie. "It's in your own writin'."

Crutchie looked from the paper to Jack in astonishment. "You kept this?" he whispered.

Jack didn't pay attention. "You see? Here," he pointed at the bottom of the letter Crutchie had written him from The Refuge when he'd been arrested during the strike. "Right there, it says you's my brother. It's in writin'. You can't take it back." Jack snatched the paper back and stared at it. "You's my brother," he said again, quietly, "and brothers don't never leave each other."

Crutchie grabbed Jack's arm. "Brothers also don't beat themselves up for doin' the best they can." He peered into Jack's eyes, trying to alleviate the guilt and pain he saw there. "Do I still gots a wallet?" he asked. Jack looked around and saw it on the night stand beside the bed. He handed it to Crutchie, who laid back against the pillows as he took it. "When you stopped that very first day, I was maybe a day away from dyin'."

Jack began to protest.

"No," Crutchie stopped him. "I could feel it. I was so cold and hungry and no one could see me. But you did. You gave me a nickel." He reached into his wallet and placed a coin in Jack's hand. It was only distinguishable as a nickel because of its color and size, it had otherwise been rubbed smooth. "Suddenly, I had a reason to try and make it beyond a day. I stayed for the next two days, hopin' to see ya again. Just when I had given up, there you was. You gave me another nickel," he placed a twin coin in Jack's hand, "and started to walk away. I wanted you to stay so bad, but I was too cold to say much. But then you stopped." Crutchie looked at Jack with adoration. "I won't never understand why you stayed. I was sure I was dreamin', but then you let me wear your coat. Dreams don't have smell, ya know, but suddenly I was warmer because the coat was warm from your body and it smelled like you."

"Probably it was the sandwich."

"Could be, but there was a smell and that let me know it wasn't a dream. You was really real, and that's when I knew that I would be OK because I wasn't alone no more. Ya know? Even when that man kicked me outta his stable, I knew you'd find me and it would be OK somehow." He leaned forward, pulling Jack's attention from the two nickels he held. "And it was," he urged Jack to believe. "Nothin' bad has ever happened to me because of anythin' you did, but every time somethin' bad has happened, you've been there to make it OK again." He plucked the nickels out of Jack's hand and returned them to his wallet. "I was only able to start sellin' papes all by myself 'cause I knew if somethin' happened, you'd show up. And 'tween you on one end and Race on the other, it had to be fine."

"You knew we was there?"

Crutchie grinned. "Course I knew! The two of you'd been hangin' on to me like leeches for a year. Ya think I thought you'd turn loose of me so quick just 'cause I said I's ready? Pshaw! I only could say that 'cause I knew you two'd do what ya done. I ain't nearly so independent as I seem to be, ya know. I needs to know ya's there, watchin' out for me."

"I am. I always will."

"But it's been hard not havin' ya there every day. I know'd it'd be different, but I didn't know I'd miss ya like I have."

"I missed ya, too. I just didn't know how to tell ya I want ya here with us without it soundin' like I's tryin' to run your life, ya know?"

"Yeah."

"Well," Kat returned, bringing two mugs with her. "Neither of you has to worry about it any longer. Crutchie's here now. Not the way we wanted him to arrive, mind you," she smiled sweetly at Crutchie, "but you're here now, and rest assured, we _both_ missed you terribly and we _both_ want you here." She handed him a mug.

He accepted it and sniffed the contents. "Tea?"

"With honey," she told him. "It'll help ease your cough."

He gave her a dubious look, but sipped the hot drink anyway. "Hey, that does feel good!"

She handed Jack the other mug. He looked down at it then back up at her in disbelief. "Tea?"

"Brotherly solidarity and all that," she said. "I figured that if Crutchie had to drink tea, you'd want to suffer with him." Crutchie chuckled. "When his cough is gone, we'll switch you back to coffee," she promised.

Jack rolled his eyes, but manfully downed the tea along with Crutchie.

"It really ain't that bad," Crutchie admitted sleepily, his mug tipping precariously in his hand.

"Wo, wo, wo!" Jack reached for Crutchie's mug before it spilled tea all over the blankets. He handed the two mugs to Kat and tucked the blankets more firmly around his friend.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I's sorry you gotta save me again, but I's glad you's here to do it."

"Crutchie, I won't never get tired of savin' you. But I'm glad you's here, too."

Crutchie grabbed Jack's hand and held on tight as he fell asleep again.

Kat returned and found Jack dozing on the side of the bed. He wouldn't leave Crutchie, but didn't want her to leave either, so she moved the cot to be perpendicular to the bed. She got cushions from the couch in the parlor and stood them up against the night stand for Jack to lean against. Kat stretched out on the cot, propping her head on Jack's lap; Jack held on to both his brother and his wife. The three of them quickly slipped into a deep, healing sleep.

When Greta went in to check on Crutchie a little while later, she saw them and stopped in her tracks. Then she went to close the curtains more firmly against the morning sun, stoked the fire, covered Kat and Jack with blankets, and made sure Crutchie was comfortably tucked in. As she pulled the door closed behind her, she came to the conclusion that she had been placed in this home to take care of all these lonely souls, and as long as they were in her charge, no one had better try to harm any one of them or they would have her to deal with. And that included the boys upstairs, if she had anything to say about it.

Though she had gone to her bed last night, she had been unable to sleep, so she had moved close to the door and heard all of the boys' stories and knew of their decision to become permanent residents of–what had they called it?–Kelly House. Yes, that was it: Kelly House. That had a nice ring to it, now didn't it?


	7. Chapter 7: Morning After

"Miss Kat? Mr. Jack? It's time to wake up. The others'll be here soon." Greta gently shook their shoulders to wake them up. "Miss Kat? Mr. Jack?"

"Hmmm? What?" As usual, Jack woke first. "Crutchie?" he asked in alarm as he came fully awake.

"He's fine and sleeping well," Greta assured him.

Jack disentangled himself from Kat and stood to check Crutchie's condition for himself. "He ain't hot no more," Jack observed, feeling Crutchie's forehead and arms.

"No," said Greta fondly. "He'll pull through without a problem. But we need to get you, Miss Kat, and the boys all up, fed, and dressed. The others'll be here soon."

Jack stretched. "What others?"

"Mr. Davey, Mr. Spot, Mr. Davey's parents and brother."

"Huh? How? What's goin' on? Why're they all comin' here?"

"When Mr. Davey found out what happened, he made all the arrangements. They'll be here at 4:00."

"What time is it now?"

"About 2:00. I've got lunch prepared and plenty to serve once the others get here."

"What others?" Kat asked sleepily.

Jack reached out and pulled Kat off the cot and into his arms. She was so cute to look at when she just woke up. He kissed the tip of her nose. "Seems Davey's decided to get his folks and Spot to come over here in a couple hours."

Kat yawned. "That was nice. How are the boys?"

"Still sleeping," Greta told her. "I woke you first. Figured you could get the boys up when you go upstairs and I'll tidy up in here and finish up lunch. It'll be ready in a few minutes, but don't rush. It's sandwiches and potato soup." She bustled out of the room.

"Greta, you're an angel. What ever would we do without you?" Kat called after her.

Greta popped her head back around the doorway. "Given the state this house was in when I moved in–and it was just the two of you?–I don't even what to think about it!"

Jack and Kat laughed as the housekeeper disappeared again.

Kat turned into her husband's embrace and kissed his chin. "It seems we've slept the day away like the lazy old souls we must be."

"We spent an entire night saving the life of one boy and adopting four others..."

"When you put it like that..." she kissed him.

He very thoroughly kissed her back.

"...I guess it was a busy night."

He hugged her. "Did we really do all that?" he asked in wonder.

"I do believe we did," she confirmed. "How's he doing?" She entwined her fingers with his and led him over to the bed.

"Sleeping, but no fever."

"That's great!" They watched over Crutchie for a few moments before Kat said, "I guess we really should get ourselves cleaned up."

"Yeah," Jack reluctantly agreed.

She tugged at him. "Come on," she urged. "He'll still be here when we come back."

"I suppose," he let himself be led out of the room.

"Look," she told him, eyes twinkling, "we'll even shut the door. That way the deeply sleeping boy with two broken legs can't escape in the thirty minutes it'll take us to get back down."

He wrapped an arm around her neck and pulled her to him. "Now you's just bein' silly," he declared, his eyes reflecting her lighthearted spirits.

"Maybe," she said, tapping his chin, "but there really isn't any need to worry. He's on the mend. He'll be fine."

"Yeah. But I still worry 'bout him."

She pulled him to the stairs and they walked up, arm-in-arm. "I know. That's what family does. You just have to make sure you don't worry too much."

At the top of the stairs, he turned right to go to their room, but she stopped him. "Let's get the boys up first so we can all head down to lunch at about the same time."

He looked a little frightened.

"What's the matter?"

"You's gonna think I's crazy–"

She stopped him with a finger on his lips. "Just tell me," she encouraged softly.

He eyed the closed bedroom doors nervously. "Ummm...what if it was all a dream or somethin'? I mean, Crutchie's here, and they brung him, but what if the rest was a dream? Or maybe it wasn't but they woke up and changed their minds and now they's all gone?"

She smiled in understanding. "A dream come true, but maybe too good to be for real?"

He nodded.

She rested her arms against his chest and looked up at him. He clasped his hands at the small of her back and looked down at her.

"First of all," she began, "I understand your concern, but I don't think you have anything to worry about. Second, if, for some strange reason, they decide not to stay, you'll be disappointed, naturally, but you won't love them any less."

He nodded.

"Thirdly..." she stood, took his hand, and reached for the first doorknob. She twisted it, pushed the door open, and–

Jack heaved a tremendous sigh of relief at the sight of Race and Albert sprawled out on their respective beds.

Kat's attention remained focused on Jack, at his expression of absolute joy mingled with relief. She beamed, then stood on tiptoe and kissed the corner of his eye, where a tiny tear had formed. "See?" she whispered. "You cry when you're happy, too."

He touched his eye in wonder as she danced away to awaken the boys.

"Wooo-eee, Jack," Race declared. "I hopes you meant it 'bout us stayin' 'cause there ain't no way I can sleep on no lumpy mattress at The Lodge after that!" He pointed at the bed as he stood and stretched. "That there is surely a slice of heaven!"

"You've slept here a number of times already, and probably in that same bed," Kat pointed out with a grin.

"Yeah, but it weren't never knowin' I was gonna be there the next night in a row," Race stated.

"That makes a difference?"

"Yeah. It does."

Kat giggled.

"Do I smell lunch?" Albert asked, rubbing at his eyes.

Jack roared with laughter. "You guys is crazy!" he declared. "Yeah, you's stayin' and yeah, lunch is ready, so get yourselves cleaned up best you can. Davey's got company comin' in a couple hours to talk about Crutchie."

"How's he doin'?" Race asked.

"He's fine. He woke up for a bit this mornin', but he's sleepin' hard now."

"That's good, ain't it?"

"Doc seems to think so, so I guess it is. Hurry up. Greta's got lunch ready."

"Don't hafta tell me twice," Albert declared, hustling around Jack and down the hall to the bathroom, Race on his heels.

Jack chuckled and went to the second bedroom where Kat had already awakened Specs and Romeo, who was chattering a mile a minute at Kat as they tidied the two beds.

Specs ambled over to stand next to Jack. "Sometimes things said in the dead of night sound different once the sun's up–"

Jack cut him off with a glare. "Don't you dare leave me," he warned in steely tones.

They silently sized each other up for a long moment, then Specs spit in his palm and held it out to Jack. "Brothers?"

Jack spit in his palm and clasped Specs' hand in his own. "For life," he vowed, and cuffed Specs on the shoulder. In answer to the questions now brimming in Specs' eyes, he said, "We'll work out the details later. Right now, Davey's on the way with his family and Spot, so we needs to get cleaned up and eat before they get here."

Specs nodded and headed down the hall toward the bathroom. "Albert, hurry up in there!" he bellowed.

Jack grinned. It was just like old times at The Lodge.

"Jack?"

Jack looked down at Romeo, who spit in his hand and held it out. "I can be your brother, too, and stay here permanent?"

Jack spit-shook Romeo's hand and pulled him in for a hug. "You got it, kid. Now, do what your mother said and get ready for company."

"Alright!" he ran down the hall, squeezed between the older boys who were arguing about who would use the bathroom next, and shut the door in their faces.

"Romeo!" came the triple shout of protest.

Kat sidled up to stand next to Jack. She hugged his arm. "Feel better?"

"Yeah," he pulled his arm from her embrace and wrapped it around her instead and guided her to their room. "When should we tell them 'bout the other bathroom?" he asked, chuckling.

"Let's let them find it on their own," she suggested.

"OK," he agreed, closing their door behind them and leaning back against it. He pulled her closer for a long and thoroughly passionate kiss. When they finally broke the kiss, she rested against him to catch her breath. She smiled when she felt the rumbles of laughter in his chest beneath her ear. "We got us a very interestin' situation, Mrs. Kelly."

"What's that?"

"If _my_ brothers are _your_ sons, that means I's married to my mother–"

She laughed at the hilarious notion.

"–and, somehow, that don't bother me the least little bit."

Her laughter stopped as his lips claimed hers.

They were late for lunch.


	8. Chapter 8: A Matter of Family

That evening, after dinner with their guests, Jack, Kat, and the boys were relaxing in the parlor. Jack and the older boys were playing a card game at the card table. Romeo, enamored with having a mother, was on the couch with Kat, browsing through a Sears & Roebuck catalog. He'd remembered Specs got his glasses from one and wanted to know what it was. He was amazed and thrilled at the sheer amount of merchandise available to purchase.

"Do ya think I'll ever be able to get anythin' from a catalog one day?" he asked, looking over a page of plows and other farming equipment.

Kat chuckled. "I think it's highly likely," she predicted.

"Really?"

"Yes, of course."

"What will I get?"

"That will depend on what you need at the time."

"What if it was now?"

"What do you need?"

"I dunno."

She laughed. "Well, I think I can say for certain you do not need a bean planter or a hay loader."

"What're you lookin' at, kid?" Race asked from the card table.

"The catalog," Romeo responded, absently turning the pages only to see more farming equipment.

"Let me see it a sec," Kat said. She flipped to the front to check the Department Index and flipped to the section she was looking for. She put the catalog back in Romeo's lap.

"Toys?" he asked. "Whaddaya do with those?"

"Little kids plays with toys," Albert piped in.

"Children _of all ages_ play with toys," Kat corrected with a laugh. She looked at Romeo. "Haven't you ever had a toy?"

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh."

"Well, we're going to have to fix that, aren't we?"

"Hunh?"

"Let's look through the toy section and see if we find anything interesting."

She heard Jack laughing softly and crinkled her nose at him.

"Did you have a toy when you was little?" Romeo asked Kat.

"I did. I had a whole room just for toys."

Romeo was amazed. "You had more than one toy?"

"Of course. Many children do."

"But what did you do with them?"

"I played with them. That's what they're for."

"Play how?"

"It depends on the toy. Each one is made for something different."

"Like what?"

Kat went through the toy section of the catalog, explaining each toy that caught Romeo's eye. In minutes, they were joined by Jack and the other boys, none of whom could ever remember having a toy.

They loved the building toys, lead soldiers, and toy guns. Predictably, the dolls and strollers held no appeal to them; they didn't understand the need for a bank at all.

"Spare change? What newsie has that?" Albert scoffed after Kat explained what the banks were for.

"There are more ways to earn a living than selling papers," she pointed out.

Just then, Greta entered the parlor and announced, "Hello everybody! We have a surprise for you!" She stepped to the side to allow Charles to enter, carrying Crutchie in his arms. Annie followed with a blanket folded over her arms.

"Crutchie!" everyone shouted excitedly, rushing to greet him. Greta stood guard in front of his legs to protect them from accidental bumping.

Kat quickly prepared the couch so Charles could set Crutchie down.

Greta swooped in to cover him with Annie's blanket, prop his feet up, and shoo the boys away: they were crowding the couch and all talking at once in their joy at seeing their friend looking so much better than when they had last seen him. "Boys!" she admonished loudly in order to be heard. All five looked up at her. She smiled. "Your friend is doing well, but he may get worse if you do not step back and give him room to breathe."

They laughed, but settled down a bit and pulled up chairs or sat on the floor near him instead of hanging over the sides of the couch.

"So, Crutch, ya feelin' OK?" Race asked.

"Never better," Crutchie said with a happy grin. "I only hurts all over and can't walk on account of I got two broke legs. Other than that, I's just fine!"

The boys all laughed.

"So, what happened?" Albert asked. "Why'd they soak ya?"

Crutchie shrugged and his smile slipped.a bit. "I dunno. One minute, I's walkin' to The Lodge, the next I's in a alley gettin' soaked but good. Then they hit my legs with my crutch and I fell and didn't know no more 'til I wakes up to Jack's ugly mug hoverin' over me."

More laughter.

"So's it sounded like you guys were havin' fun in here," Crutchie said. "What was ya doin'?"

"The fellas was playing cards, but me and Ma was lookin' at the catalog," Romeo announced.

"Who? The what?"

Romeo put the catalog in Crutchie's lap. "Ma was tellin' us 'bout toys."

"Well, ain't that somethin'?" Crutchie mused in wonder. "What is it?" He flipped through the pages, marveling, as Romeo had done, at the number of things available to buy.

"Ya can buy anythin' they got in here," Romeo explained. "Like Specs got his glasses."

As Romeo and Crutchie explored the catalog together, the others drifted back to the card table, patting Crutchie on the shoulder as they left, all very happy that their friend was recovering.

Greta, Annie, and Kat chatted together on one side of the fireplace while Charles read a book in an armchair on the other. The guys picked up their card game where they'd left off.

When the clock struck ten, Greta announced that it was time for bed. The boys protested, but cleaned up the cards. Romeo nudged a dozing Crutchie awake. The boys all stood but hovered together just inside the door.

"Somethin' wrong, fellas?" Jack asked.

"We's just wonderin', since we didn't sell no papes today, could we pay ya tomorrow for last night and tonight?" Race explained.

"What're ya talkin' about?" Jack scoffed.

"How much do it cost? We likes that we can stay here, but we knows it ain't free. We wanna pay our share."

The other boys nodded their agreement.

"You guys are idiots. You's family, and family don't pay."

Race walked over to face Jack. "We ain't no freeloaders!"

"You ain't freeloadin'!"

"Stop!" Kat stepped between them. They stepped back, glaring at each other, each convinced they were right.

"Sit!" Kat pointed at Greta and Charles, who were starting to ease their way out of the room. They sat.

"Freeze!" she pointed at the boys trying to slink out the door. They froze.

She turned to Jack and grasped his face in her hands, turning him to look at her. "Jack, look at me. Jack, you wonderful, stupid oaf."

That caught his attention and he looked down at her. She patted his cheek, then pushed him in the direction of the couch. "Crutchie, Annie, sit on him." Annie pulled Jack to the end of the couch and put Crutchie's feet on his lap.

She looked at Race. "Sit," she pointed to the footstool beside Charles's chair. He sat. "Charles, keep him there." Race felt Charles pat his shoulder with a quiet chuckle.

"Albert. Specs. Romeo. Get over here." She pointed to the spot between the fireplace and the couch. They scurried to the indicated place and settled on the floor.

Everyone's eyes were on Kat. She took a deep breath. She had no idea what she was going to say, but something had to be done. She took another breath. "OK, guys." She looked at everyone. A mixed bag of expressions ranging from Greta's amusement to Jack's disgruntlement to the worry she saw in the boys' faces gazed back at her. Charles gave her a wink and smile of encouragement. Greta nodded, letting her know this was the right thing to be doing. "In a typical family, there's a mother and a father and some kids. In that traditional family, the parents provide the house, food, clothes, and stuff for the kids. The kids do their thing–doing well in school, helping out around the house, things like that. As you may have noticed, we don't have the mother or the father, but we have a bunch of kids and a handful of adults."

"But you said you's gonna be my Ma," squeaked Romeo.

She smiled down at him. "Of course I will, sweetie. Don't you worry about that."

Romeo's expression cleared, relieved.

"We _are_ a family," she looked at Jack and smiled. He glowered. "We are _definitely_ a family, but we are not a _traditional_ family, so what we need to do is define what our family is and how it is going to work."

"Whaddaya mean?" asked Race suspiciously. "I ain't freeloadin' off no one." Charles's gentle hand on his shoulder calmed him somewhat.

"No one is asking you or anyone else to be a freeloader, Race," Kat assured him gently. "I want to tell you all a quick story. I, as you may know, am not very good at doing anything around the house."

Greta could not stifle her laugh.

Kat giggled. "I think Jack finally believed me and agreed we needed some help."

"Hah!" Jack burst out. "She tried to pump water from the sink and got more on herself than in the bucket!"

Everyone, including Kat, laughed.

"It's true. I am completely useless when it comes to keeping a house in order. Fortunately, we soon met Greta. She moved in, undid all the damage I had done to the house–" more chuckles, "–and, much to Jack's relief, was able to feed us a well-cooked meal."

"Nice!" whispered Albert.

"Her first night here, she worked all day, cooked us a meal, set the table in the dining room, served our dinner, and disappeared."

"Where'd she go?" Romeo asked.

"She and Annie were eating in the kitchen."

"What's wrong with that? Ain't that where we eat?" Race asked.

"It is," Kat confirmed. "But that's because we," she pointed between Jack and herself, "decided that's what we wanted."

"What happened?" Specs wanted to know.

"She wouldn't eat in the dinin' room with us, so I moved us to the kitchen," Jack said. "Greta worked hard as we did all day, so there's no reason she had to set up and clean two tables."

"Sounds fair," Race muttered.

"Yeah," Jack agreed, "but it took some doin' to convince her of that." Jack winked at Greta. "But she agreed in the end."

"Because it's the only way I could get you out of my kitchen," Greta complained.

More laughter.

"The point is," Kat continued, "we saw Greta and Annie as part of our family, not as servants."

"Doesn't they get paid?" Race asked.

"I get paid for the work I do," Greta explained. "Annie's job is to go to school and help me when she can."

"Annie goes to school?" Romeo asked.

"She does."

"How can you be part of a family and still gets paid?" Race wanted to know. "Jack just said family don't pay."

"Because that's how we want it to be, Race," Kat told him. "Greta works hard for us and deserves to be paid for what she does. But she should not be expected to be at work for us all day long, every single day. She needs time off from work, just like Jack and I get. So we talked it over and figured out how to make everyone comfortable with it. And that's what we need to do with you guys."

"I ain't free–"

"Stop," Kat broke in. "We know you don't want to take advantage of us, and that's very considerate of you. But–" she held up a finger at Jack to shut him up, "–as you know, we don't want you to feel you have to pay to stay here.

"Jack has long considered all of you to be his brothers; you are his family and he only wants to protect you like he's always tried to do, and, now that he has a different job at the newspaper, he wants to provide things for you that you wouldn't ever be able to get as newsies. I love you all, too, and very much want you to stay here with us.

"As you all know, I am a Pulitzer," she glanced at Jack as she heard him growl and she grinned, "OK, I'm a _Kelly_ , and quite pleased about it," she crinkled her nose at her husband, "but I _was_ a Pulitzer, so money is not an issue, which means we don't actually _need_ you to pay rent or for your food or anything else we can provide. That's all taken care of. What we need to figure out is what measures we can take to encourage you to stay but make you feel comfortable doing it."

"What?" Race snapped.

"She means, nitwit, that we don't needs you to pay nothin', but what'll it take for ya to feel OK 'bout stayin' here if ya don't gives us any money?" Jack snapped.

"Might I suggest that everyone think about the possibilities before offering suggestions?" Charles offered.

"A good idea," Greta agreed. "Everyone can think about it and tomorrow after supper, we can discuss it in greater detail."

"Sounds fair," everyone agreed.

"An observation, if I may?" Charles requested.

"Of course, Charles," Kat agreed.

"We have, with the adoption of five boys, increased our number from five residents to ten. That means twice the food, twice the laundry, twice the beds,..."

"A very good point, Charles. So, are we all in agreement? We'll all think of ways the newest members of our family can contribute to our household without the need to pay for their room and board?"

"Yeah," came a chorus of agreements.

"Wonderful!" Greta announced. "However, it is even later than before and time for us all to retire for the night." She stood and held a hand out to Annie and they left the room together, wishing everyone a good night.

"Guys, do you mind sleeping in the same beds as last night, and pick out your permanent bedrooms tomorrow?" Kat asked.

"OK by me," Albert agreed with a yawn.

"Fine, but I do gots a question for ya," Race said.

"What's that?"

"What do we call ya?"

"What do you mean?"

Race pointed to Romeo. "I knows ya said you'd be like our ma if we's wanted you to..."

Kat smiled, understanding his dilemma. "Call me whatever you're comfortable with. If you want to stick with 'Kat,' that's fine. If you'd prefer 'Ma' or some such, that's OK, too."

Race nodded uncertainly and headed for the door.

"Race," Kat stopped him. "Tell me what's on your mind."

He took a moment to gather his thoughts then looked at her. "It's just that _everyone_ calls ya 'Kat.' And you's _like_ a ma, even if you isn't really one..."

She walked to him and cupped his face in her hands. "You are a very special guy, did you know that?"

He blushed.

She kissed his forehead. "You'll have to think of what you'll be comfortable with, come up with something you like that's between 'Kat' and 'Ma.'

"Like what?"

"I don't know. You could try another variation of 'Mother': mom, mama, mother-dearest," she suggested. They all chuckled at the last option before giving it a resounding 'no.' "You could try a different language."

"Like what?"

"Well, in French, 'sister' is _sœur_ , 'friend' is _amie_ , and 'mother' is _mère_."

"'Sir,' 'Amy,' and 'Mare'?" Specs repeated. "Them's sure some strange words they got."

"Mare? Like a horse?" Albert asked.

Kat laughed. "It sounds like that, true, but in French it's spelled differently and it means 'mother'."

"Mare?" Race pondered.

"I like it," Specs put his two cents' worth in.

"Me, too," said Albert.

Race grinned. "And it's just us can call ya that? 'Cause you's ours?"

"If you like."

The three boys looked at each other and silently came to an agreement. They nodded, then filed by her, one-by-one. "G'night, Mare," each one said, kissing her on the cheek as they passed by.

She grinned, delighted. "Sleep tight, boys. I'll look in on you in a bit."

They all raced upstairs.

Romeo hung back, looking worried.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Do I gots to call you a horse, too?"

She laughed. "No, you can still call me 'Ma' if it's what you like the best."

He threw his arms around her. As he stepped back, he looked between her and Jack.

"What's up, kid?" Jack asked.

"Ummm...do you think that one day, maybe, I might could go to school, like Annie and Les?"

Jack grinned. "Yeah, kid. That can happen."

"Alright!" Romeo cheered, jumping for joy. He ran to hug Jack's neck, then Crutchie, then Kat. He stood on tiptoe to kiss her on the cheek.

"Off to bed, now," she scolded lightly. "I'll be up in a few minutes to tuck you in."

He thundered up the stairs. "Hey, Specs, guess what! I'm goin' to school!"

Jack, Kat, Crutchie, and Charles laughed.

Kat went to stand behind Jack. She kissed to top of his head and massaged his shoulders a little bit. "Better?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"Well," she sing-songed as she settled next to him on the arm of the couch, "you know it's like I told them: money isn't an issue. Why don't we just both quit our jobs and live a life of leisure every day, just doing whatever we want whenever we want to do it. Doesn't that sound lovely?" She sighed blissfully.

"Damn it, Kat! We talked about this!" He tried to stand up but had to stop to gently move Crutchie's feet off his lap first.

Kat grinned and winked at Charles and a bemused Crutchie before altering her expression to one of complete innocence as she waited for Jack to get to her.

"We talked about this," he held her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "I ain't quittin' no job and just livin' off your money!"

She slid her arms up his chest and clasped her hands behind his neck. "We're married, aren't we?" She kissed his chin.

"Damn straight," he growled.

"So, we're family?"

"Yeah. So?"

With twinkling eyes, she looked up at him. "So, family doesn't have to pay to stay at home."

Charles coughed to try and cover his laughter.

Crutchie didn't even try to hide it. "She gotcha there, Jack!"

Jack cupped Kat's face in his hands. "How do ya do that?" he grumbled. "Ya knows I hates it when you's right."

She smiled and traced his lips with her finger. "Kiss me."

He growled, but complied with her request before pulling her into a warm embrace. "Crutch, be careful of the ladies," he warned. "The best ones'll tie ya into knots, but have you beggin' 'em to do it again and again."

They all laughed.

Kat left to go upstairs to check on the boys.

Jack slumped into an empty armchair and stared into the fire.

"Uh, Jack?" Crutchie called softly.

"Yeah?"

"What can I do?"

"Whaddaya mean?"

"I can't sell no papes with two broke legs and whatever the fellas come up with to pay their way, I won't be able to do that, neither, at least not at first. So what can I do?"

Jack sighed. "Guess I can't talk ya into just relaxin' for a while, can I?"

"Well, maybe if you quits your job and spends all your time with me..." Crutchie's eyes sparkled with laughter.

Jack growled. "You's bad as Kat," he declared, "but I guess that's OK." He thought a moment. "I don't know nothin' straight off that ya can do. Let me think on it, OK?"

"Yeah. Sure," Crutchie conceded, a little disappointed.

Charles cleared his throat.

"You OK, Charles?" Jack asked.

"I am quite well, thank you. However, I was wondering how your paperwork for the Newsboy Union was coming along?"

Jack groaned. "It ain't goin' nowhere, just sittin' there and bleedin' out of those boxes all over the place." Suddenly, he sat straight up. "That's it! Charles, you's a genius!" He moved to sit on the footstool next to Crutchie. "It's perfect, Crutch! You can do it, you's good at stuff like that and it don't need no walkin'! And if you fall asleep, it's OK, too!" Jack was excited about this discovery.

"Uhhh, Jack, what're you talkin' about?"

"The Union!"

"The Union?"

"Yeah! 'Cause I runs it, I gotta do a ton of stuff with it that I don't like to do. But you was always in Old Bill's office helpin' him out and stuff."

"Like what?"

"I gots to keep lists of members and dates and what goes on in meetin's and what to talk about in meetin's. I gotta keep track of who's paid their dues and who hasn't. Stuff like that. It's all in boxes in my study and none of it makes much sense to me, so everytime I gets new papers I just toss them in a box. But you could sort it all out and get it all to make sense! It's perfect!"

Crutchie looked skeptical. "Ya just wants me to sort a few papers? Don't sound like enough to me."

"It's a big job," Kat told him from the doorway. "And it's an ideal solution, I think. Perhaps you should see the magnitude of Jack's ineptitude first, before you decide?"

"Uhh, OK?"

"She means does ya wanna see how lousy I am at it before ya says you'll do it?" Jack translated in a whisper as a grinning Charles scooped up Crutchie and followed Jack and Kat to the study.

"There," Jack waved his hand at 8 or 9 boxes, overflowing with papers, haphazardly stacked in a corner of the room.

"Jack, we's only had the Union 'bout a year. How can ya have so much papers?"

"Ya wouldn't believe the amount of stuff ya gotta do for a Union."

"Oh. Well," Crutchie eyed the large stacks with a dubious eye.

"Please, Crutch," Jack implored. "I ain't makin' somethin' up just to makes ya feel good 'bout stayin'. It really does need to get done, but none of it makes any sense to me. But you's good at it. Old Bill told me how ya helped him in the office on those days it was too cold outside for your leg."

Crutchie looked at Kat, who just shrugged, leaving the decision up to him. "Whether you agree to this task or not, you have a home here. But Jack's right. It does need to get done, and he's completely awful at it."

Crutchie yawned. "OK. I guess I'll do it, then." His head fell against Charles's shoulder.

"Next stop, bed," Charles announced, heading back to the yellow parlor.

Kat and Jack followed, staying to say good night after Charles deposited Crutchie on the bed.

"Night, Crutch," Jack fist-bumped Crutchie's shoulder.

"Night, Jack," Crutchie grinned.

"Good night, Crutchie," Kat smoothed Crutchie's hair away from his face and pulled the covers up around him. "Comfortable?"

Crutchie nodded. "Umm, Kat?"

"Yes?"

"Why do the fellas wanna call you their ma?"

Kat smiled. "It's because of you, actually."

"Me?"

"Yes." She sat beside him on the edge of the bed. "When they brought you in last night–goodness! Was it really only just last night?–you were in a dreadful state, bleeding, bruised all over, and burning up with a fever. The boys were all very scared that you weren't going to make it. We all were. While you were feverish, you called out for your mother and only relaxed when I pretended I was her."

"That was you?"

Kat nodded.

Tears welled at the corner of Crutchie's eyes. "I thought I'd really talked to her."

"But sweetie, you did talk to her."

"But–"

"Crutchie, in your mind you called out for your mother and it was your mother who answered you. If you hadn't believed it was really her, you wouldn't have continued talking to her. It doesn't matter who was speaking for her–what matters is that for you, it _was_ her."

"I miss her so much sometimes." Tears slowly seeped from his eyes. "Most days, I's OK and don't think 'bout her. But sometimes it hits me that she's gone and I won't never see her no more." He sniffled. "Did I say a lot?"

Kat nodded. "But we all shook on a promise not to tell anyone what we heard. It's your story to tell, if you ever want to, and no one will hear it from anyone but you."

"Then you knows how mean my Pa was?"

Kat nodded.

"He never did nothin' so far as I ever knew. Sent me out to beg 'cause he thought a cute kid like me'd get more by beggin' than workin'. When I got older and not as cute, he, um, he–" Crutchie's voice caught, but he took a deep breath and continued, "he broke my leg and wouldn't let Ma get a doctor to fix it 'cause a crippled kid would get more. When she tried to stop him, he hit her and she hit her head hard. When the cops came to get him, I hid 'cause I thought they'd lock me up, too. But the worst part was that after Ma fell, she never moved. She just laid there on the floor and never moved at all."

Kat hugged him and held on tight as he sobbed out the grief for his mother that he hadn't been able to before now. When the worst of his grief subsided, Kat laid him back on the pillows. He held on to her hands. "You know how Jack and I met, I s'pose?"

She nodded, wiping at his eyes with the corner of the sheet. "Jack told us all last night."

"I never felt safe after Ma died 'til I met Jack, and I never feels really safe if I don't know how to get to him if I needs to. Even now, I's still afraid to be all alone. I know it's stupid–"

"Shut up," Jack said gently, coming to stand next to Kat. "It ain't stupid," he told Crutchie, placing a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder, "'cause it's the same for me. I never like it when I don't know where you is or how I can find ya if I need to."

"There, you see?" Kat assured Crutchie. "You have nothing to worry about." She brushed at the hair on his forehead and gently swiped at fresh tears on his face. "Your being here is good for Jack. He can relax now that he doesn't have to worry about where you're sleeping at night." She smiled at him. "He will always be here to protect you. And so will I." As she had with the other newsies, she kissed his forehead and promised, "You're safe here, so sleep well. Jack and I will let nothing happen to you or anyone here. OK?"

Crutchie nodded. "I guess you is like my Ma. She said the same kinda stuff to me every day."

"She sounds like a really special lady."

"She was." Crutchie studied her for a long moment. "And you is, too."

She smiled at Crutchie and kissed his forehead again. "Sleep well, little man. I'll see you in the morning."

"That's what my ma used to call me." He smiled in memory, then looked up in worry. "You ain't leavin' me?"

"No," she reassured him. "We'll stay with you until you fall asleep."

It didn't take long. His battered body had had enough activity for the day and in minutes he was sound asleep.

Kat was reluctant, even still, to leave him, but Jack insisted, gently pulling her away, then carrying her to their room.

"You are one helluva amazin' woman, Katherine Kelly," he declared.

"Do you really think so?" she asked sleepily.

"I do. And I thank the stars every day that you's mine, though I'll be forever askin' why you picked this gutter rat over what you coulda picked."

"I had no choice, really," she admitted.

"Whaddaya mean?"

"It's been my dream since I was a little girl to marry an incredibly handsome, wonderfully softhearted, Newsboy Union strike leader newsie."

He laughed.

"There aren't too many of those around, so when I found one, I snatched him up right away."

He had no response other than to kiss her. And so he did.


	9. Chapter 9: Of Love and Impatience

The next morning, Kat got up at her usual time with the usual amount of prodding and nagging from Jack.

"Shut up," she griped. "Stop being so awake. It's annoying."

He laughed and tickled her.

She shrieked and slapped at his hands but sat up anyway and brushed at the hair covering her face.

"That's my girl," he praised, pulling her out of the bed.

"Grrr."

He laughed and hugged her before pushing her toward the bathroom. "Go on. Get ready. I'll see you downstairs in a few."

Once she was up, it didn't take her long to get moving, and she was soon heading downstairs to the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway, surprised to see only Jack, Charles, and Annie at the table, and Greta at the stove. "Where are the boys?" she asked as she took her seat next to Jack.

"Mornin' bell's at five," Jack told her. "They was outta here a while ago."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," she muttered.

"Well, they sure surprised me," Greta said, placing eggs, bacon, and toast on the table, "stomping down the stairs like wild horses."

"Did they at least eat before they left?" asked Kat.

"No," an indignant Greta said as she sat down.

"The Sisters'll feed 'em," Jack assured them, piling eggs and bacon on his plate, and reaching for several slices of toast.

"Cold coffee and stale doughnuts?" Greta shivered in horror. "My boys deserve better," she dished some eggs onto her plate. "Much better," she mumbled under her breath.

"Will they be warm enough?" Kat fretted, looking out at the dismal, gray day, nibbling on a piece of toast. "I didn't check to see if they all had coats."

Jack looked between the two women and shook his head in disbelief. "Don't worry so much. They's all been takin' care of themselves for a long time. They'll be as fine today as they was two days ago."

"Perhaps," Kat conceded uncertainly, "but two days ago they weren't mine."

"Quite right," Greta agreed.

Jack chuckled and looked at Charles. "They's gonna get more motherin' than they was countin' on." Charles simply smiled. Jack shook his head. "Don't push 'em," he warned the ladies. "They's been independent most of their lives and might not take to family life like you's imaginin'. There's a reason I didn't work harder to get them to stay more'n a night or two at a time before now."

"Can I at least get them coats?" Kat sniped.

"Maybe. If they's wantin' one," Jack told her, helping himself to seconds. "They's already too old to sell as many papes as younger kids. Havin' new clothes'll only hurt sales."

"But there are things they can do besides–"

Charles cleared his throat. "Miss Kat, if I might interrupt," he broke in politely. "Our boys are accustomed to having nothing. We are more acquainted with having perhaps more than we need. It might be in the best interests of both us and the boys if we proceed slowly and with caution."

"I guess," Kat slumped in her seat and sullenly pushed at the eggs on her plate with her fork.

"I don't understand, Mr. Charles," Annie piped in.

He looked fondly at Annie and explained. "If our goal is to be a family, we need to encourage the growth of _personal_ relationships, not monetary ones." At Annie's continued look of confusion, he continued. "Miss Kat has one of the biggest, softest, most generous hearts I have ever had the pleasure of knowing."

"She sure does," Jack said proudly, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"In her desire to give the boys a better life, it would be very easy for her actions to be misinterpreted as an attempt to buy the boys' affections. Likewise, the possibility exists that they, in turn, might only see the money she offers them instead of the love she extends in providing it."

"So I can't buy them anything at all?" she pouted.

"Nah," Jack protested, draping an arm over her shoulders. "Buy 'em whatever you want. Just don't do it all today."

Charles chuckled. "Precisely my point. In fact, if you exercise just a little patience, I feel things may turn faster than you might be thinking."

"What do you mean?" Greta leaned forward on her elbows, eager to know how to get her boys off the streets.

"If I'm not mistaken, with the exception of young Romeo, all the boys are not too much younger than Mr. Jack?" He looked at Jack, who nodded. "As Specs and Jack have mentioned, they are not too far off from having to leave behind the life of newsie and find a new path in life. So a little patience on our part may speed up the process on theirs. And, now they have the added benefit of having many more options for their futures than they have ever had at any other time in their lives.

"I might suggest starting with Romeo, who has expressed an interest in attending school, a decision which will replace selling papers with getting an education, which will require new clothing, supplies for school, and various other sundries."

"We can do Crutchie, too," Jack suggested. "He won't be sellin' papes no more."

"There, you see?" Charles turned kind eyes on Greta and Kat.

"But they _all_ need more than the one set of clothes they have," Greta observed.

"Mama, some people have work clothes and regular clothes," Annie offered.

"Brilliant child!" Greta praised, hugging her daughter and looking eagerly at Kat who looked at Jack.

"Will that work?" she asked. "As their 'parents,' we are allowed to provide clothing, are we not? We can let them wear their newsie clothes in the mornings and get them clothes to wear after they're done selling papes."

He shrugged. "Might work, but don't push it," he warned again. But he grinned, loving how her mind worked.

She shared a look of satisfaction with Greta. "They'll get new coats after all," she said smugly.

Jack shook his head as he stood. "You ladies is somethin' else," he said as he pulled Kat's chair so she could stand, too. "Them boys ain't prepared for the likes of you, I tell ya."

Everyone chuckled.

"Ready, Annie?" Jack asked the girl.

She nodded. "Let me get my books."

Jack and Kat checked in on a sleeping Crutchie before leaving.

"Keep an eye on him today, will ya Charles?" Jack asked.

Charles placed a comforting hand on Jack's shoulder. "Of course. There's no need to ask."

"I know. But thanks."

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Jack."

Annie joined them just then and Charles held the door open for them as they set off for school and work. Annie's school was just a block or so from the house and Jack and Kat saw her into the schoolyard before turning back down the street toward _The New York World_ office building.

After several uncharacteristically silent moments from Kat, Jack finally asked, "What's botherin' ya?"

Kat sighed. "Everything you and Charles said makes perfect sense. I get it. I do. But I don't know if I can do it. I just want to give them everything they've never had."

Jack hugged her close. "But you is," he protested. "Think about it, Kat. What they want most is what you already gave 'em–a ma who'll love 'em no matter what. Stick with that and everythin' else will just come natural."

She sighed. "I hope so."

"It worked on me, didn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there's no way I was ever s'posed to meet you let alone marry you."

"So?"

"So, here I am, a kid off the streets marryin' a girl with more money than I could ever think of. Ask anyone on the street," he waved his hand at the passersby on the sidewalks, "and they'll tell ya it won't work. Most folks'd have the street kid spending the lady blind within a year."

"But you don't care about the money!"

"Of course I care, but not like they thinks I do. I care because it's part of who you are and there ain't no separatin' the two. But," he cupped her chin to tilt her face up to look at him, "it ain't what I see when I looks at ya." He wiped a lone tear off her face with his thumb. "And neither do the fellas."

"What could they possibly see? I haven't done anything yet."

"Kat, you've been one of the guys ever since you barged in on the strike."

She giggled.

"You never once treated any of us like newsies, never said nothin' 'bout our clothes, speakin', or education, all of which was completely opposite to you. Do you know how lucky _I_ am, let alone _them_? How could I ever have imagined I'd find someone who could love me like my ma loved my pop, but who also loves my friends so much she buys a house big enough for 'em all and close enough to where they are that they can visit every day? Then she frets and gripes 'cause she ain't done more?" He hugged her close to his chest. "Kat, you are so much more of a treasure than you know and I only hopes you don't wake up one day and take it all away from me."

"I couldn't. I wouldn't."

"I know." He gave her a quick squeeze and started them down the sidewalk again. "So, here's what we'll do. We'll get 'em more clothes, 'cause they do need 'em. Get a few toys or books or somethin' for their rooms. But then just keep givin' 'em what they want most."

"What's that?"

"Their mother. Someone who tucks 'em in at night. Calms 'em when they's more afraid than they know. Someone who explains toys and how a family works. _That's_ what they want more'n anything else in the world. Just be their Ma and everythin' else'll happen natural."

"How'd you get to be so wise?"

"Weren't too long ago I was just like 'em, tryin' my best to give 'em what I could, but wantin' someone to give it to me, too."

"What happened?" she asked with a cheeky grin.

He grinned back at her. "A nosy reporter weaseled her way into my life. She stole my heart, now I's chasin' after her every day tryin' to get it back."

"Ever caught her?"

"A time or two, but she kisses me like nothin' else and I forgets all about gettin' my heart back."

"Maybe you should just call it an even trade," she suggested.

"What?"

"She may have your heart, but you have hers, and she's not so certain she wants it back."

"That so?"

"Yup."

"Well, then, we'll call it even."

She giggled again and bumped him, causing him to trip over his own feet.

He growled playfully as he grabbed her hand, pulling it over her head to spin her around before dipping her backward over his arm and kissing her soundly.

There was a smattering of applause behind them. They turned to find they were beside the circulation gate at _The World_. A few newsies were hanging about and several employees were loading papers into wagons. They laughed, bowed and curtsied to their audience, and with a wave at the people they knew, rounded the corner and headed inside to begin their day at work.


	10. Chapter 10: Unexpected Surprises

Later that afternoon, Kat was standing on the sidewalk outside _The World_ building, waiting for a cab. She had just turned in her latest article and Jack was covering an event several blocks away. They had agreed to meet at a restaurant near his location for a late lunch. It was fancier than Jacobi's, but he liked it well enough. She smiled in memory of their first visit there. He'd been convinced someone would announce to everyone that he was a fraud. When that didn't happen, he relaxed somewhat and began to be more open to new experiences in places Kat grown up in and around.

"Ma!"

Her reverie was broken by a familiar voice. She looked around and saw Romeo just in time to keep from being knocked down as he threw his arms around her waist. She laughed in delight as she returned his embrace. "What are you doing here?"

He stepped back and looked adoringly up at her. "I's done sellin' papes and been hangin' out here to see if you or Jack was workin' today."

She smoothed his hair out of his eyes. "Why didn't you come inside? Anyone could have told you where I was."

He cast a nervous glance at the front door. "They don't let newsies go inside."

"Well, we'll just have to fix that, now won't we?" she asked in a determined voice. She held her hand out. "Want to see where I work?"

"Really?" he asked in anticipation as he took her hand.

"Yup," she confirmed and led him inside.

The first person they saw was the guard at the desk in the front lobby. Romeo trembled nervously as Kat took him straight to the desk. "Hello, John."

He cast a suspicious eye at Romeo but only nodded in greeting.

Kat draped a protective arm over Romeo's shoulder as he backed into her. "John, this is my son, Romeo. I'm going to show him where Jack and I work. Please add him to the list of approved guests so he can come and see us anytime he pleases."

John pulled out a large book, but didn't open it. "Your _son_ , Miss Pulitzer?" he inquired dubiously.

"It's Mrs. Kelly, John," she reminded him. "And, yes, Romeo is my son. He is not to be denied entry to this building when he wishes to visit either Jack or me," she repeated sternly.

"Yes, ma'am," John opened to a page with her name at the top and slowly wrote 'Romeo Kelly–son' on it.

"While you're at it, I have a few more names to add." She gave him the names of the other boys, Charles, Greta, and Annie, and had him add the same list under Jack's name.

He did as she asked, but slowly, casting suspicious glances at Romeo the whole time. She knew her father would hear of this before the day was out. She sighed. She'd hoped to keep their little newly-found-family bubble from popping quite so soon. She loved her father, but he could be exasperating.

John finished the last entry and closed the book with a soft thud, glaring at Romeo, who softly whimpered and hid behind Kat.

"Thank you, John," she said coldly. She reached behind her for Romeo's hand, shielding him from John's hostile gaze with her body. "Shall we go?"

"Ummm, yeah?"

"Would you like to see where I work first? Or Jack's desk?"

"We's really goin' in?" he asked in wonder, looking around the ornate lobby with awe.

She chuckled. "Of course. Come on. My desk first," and she led him to the bank of elevators where she let him punch the button to take them to the third floor.

He was excited but nervous as they wended their way through the busy newsroom to her desk beside a large window. He was fascinated by the typewriter and she let him play with it for a few minutes before asking if he was ready to go to Jack's desk.

"Yeah!" he hopped down off her chair.

She checked the time before they left. "Hold on, kiddo. I need to meet Jack in a little bit. Do you want to go home for lunch or eat with us?"

"I can stay with you?"

"Of course."

"OK!" he beamed.

"Let's call Greta so she doesn't worry about you."

"How's she gonna hear ya?"

"We'll use the phone, silly."

"The phone?" His eyes widened.

"Yeah, right here." She guided him to a table of phones in the middle of the newsroom. She showed him how to use one and how to ask the operator for a connection to the phone at home.

"Me? Ya wants me to do it?"

"Sure," she encouraged. "It isn't hard."

He took a deep breath and went through the steps she'd shown him. "Greta?" he tentatively inquired when his call was answered on the other end. He almost dropped the phone. "Ma! It's Greta!"

"Yes, I know!" she laughed.

"Greta! I's talkin' on a phone!"

Kat laughed even harder and ruffled his hair. "She knows, sweetie. Tell her about lunch."

As Romeo prattled on about his day to Greta, Lydia Walker, another reporter, sauntered over and stood next to Kat.

"Ma?" she inquired in amusement.

Kat just smiled, keeping her attention focused on Romeo.

"Got a thing for urchins, haven't you?"

Romeo's call ended just then and he heard her comment. He backed nervously into Kat even while glaring at Lydia.

Kat again draped a protective arm over his shoulder. He held on to her hand with both of his. "Romeo, this is Miss Walker, one of the people I work with. Lydia, this is my son, Romeo." Her gaze dared Lydia to say anything smart.

Lydia seemed to choke on her own tongue. Kat was friendly and easy-going, but definitely someone she did not want to anger. No matter who she'd married, she was still a Pulitzer. So she pasted on a smile. "It's nice to meet you, Romeo. Aren't you a handsome...um...boy?"

"Thank you," Kat answered for him. "And now, if you'll excuse us." Keeping Romeo in front of her, she guided him back out to the elevators. "Jack's office is on the fifth floor," she told him.

He pressed the button and eagerly danced until the elevator opened and he could tell the attendant which floor to go to. He was quiet on the ride up, but when they were in the hall, he asked, "Was that a mean lady?"

"No, sweetie. She was just surprised when you called me 'Ma,' that's all."

"But why?"

"Because she knows I don't really have any children."

"But you gots us?"

She knelt in front of him in the middle of the busy hallway. "You know I do. But you also know I'm not the mother who gave birth to you."

He nodded.

"I'd have had to be six or seven when you were born, and that's way too young for a little girl to have a baby, right?"

He giggled.

"That's why she was surprised. And it will surprise many more people. But you know what?"

"What?"

"It's OK if they're surprised. It would be kind of weird if they weren't. Some people will be nice about it and some people won't be. All you need to do is shrug and go on, because I am the mother in your heart, and that's all that counts. We decided that's how it should be, so that's how it is. It works for you and it works for me–"

"And for Jack?"

"Yes, and it works for Jack. And if you stop and think about it, those are the only people who matter when it comes to this, right?"

"Yeah." He pondered her words for a long moment. "So, folks'll think it's weird, but it's OK 'cause you's still my Ma, right?"

She hugged him tightly. "Yes. Absolutely. I'm your mother forever, Romeo."

"Good," she heard him whisper in relief before he pulled away. "Can we go see Jack now?"

She stood and took his hand again. "Jack's not actually here right now, but I'll show you where he works. Then we'll go meet him for lunch."

"OK.

Jack's office of cartoonists and illustrators wasn't nearly so busy or large as the newsroom where Kat worked, though it could get loud when the men exchanged differences of opinion on nearly every subject under the sun. With it being Friday afternoon, the office was empty and quiet.

Romeo loved Jack's desk with all its pens, pencils, and endless supplies of paper.

"Look," Kat opened a drawer and pulled out a tablet. "This is my favorite thing here." She sat in Jack's chair and pulled Romeo to stand next to her. She set the tablet in front of him and opened to the first page.

"Oh, hey! That's you!" he exclaimed and pulled the tablet closer. It was her, as Jack first remembered seeing her, on the eve of the strike. There followed several more drawings of her, then, "That's Race and Albert!" Jack had captured them in a light-hearted moment selling papers one morning. Romeo rapidly flipped through the pages, identifying his friends and Kat when he stopped, open-mouthed in disbelief. "That's me? Is that me?" He looked at Kat. "That's me!" He grinned. "I stole Race's cigar!" He giggled uproariously at the memory. The drawing caught Romeo ducking under someone's outstretched arm while a hand, presumably Race's, was reaching for Romeo, who was a step or two ahead of his pursuer. "I sure is fast," he stated proudly.

"You sure are," Kat agreed.

They flipped through a few more, not studying them for very long as Kat promised they'd come back and he could look at it again in more detail.

"Can't we take it home with us? The fellas'll wanna see it, too."

"No. It's Jack's and we can't take it without asking him first. But let's see if he's added anything new." She flipped the pages from the back to find the last page he'd drawn on. She opened to it and her breath caught. His last drawing was actually a series of small sketches illustrating what had happened since they night the guys had brought Crutchie home: an unconscious Crutchie in his friends' arms, the guys sleeping on blankets on the floor, the fight over the bathroom, Greta and Charles in front of the fire, Kat explaining family to a spellbound group, and, her favorite by far, her and Romeo cuddled on the couch looking at the catalog.

"That's us," Romeo whispered, melting against her.

"Yes, it is," she squeezed him.

"Oh, hi, Kat. I didn't know you'd be here."

Kat looked at the new arrival and smiled. "Hi, Luke. I was just showing Romeo where Jack works before we meet him across town for lunch."

"Lucky guy," Luke commented with a flirty grin. "Sure you wouldn't rather eat with me?"

Romeo stepped protectively in front of Kat. "We gots to go see Jack," he insisted belligerently.

Luke held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, kid, nothing doing." He laughed and playfully jabbed the air near Romeo's waist. "You tell Jack I said that you're a good man to have around, protecting your mother like that."

"You know she's my ma?"

Luke leaned against a nearby desk. "Yeah. Jack told me. It's a great thing for a boy to have a mom." He leaned forward and loudly whispered, "It'll help you with the girls later on," he winked.

"Stop putting ideas into his head," Kat admonished with a smile. She looked at Romeo. "This is Mr. Taylor. He's an illustrator here, like Jack is."

"Can you draw good as Jack?"

"Wish I could, kid, but there aren't many who can," Luke admitted ruefully. "Fortunately, papers don't always need top talent, so guys like me with only slightly above average talent can still earn a living."

Romeo regarded him for a long moment. "How come you don't think it's weird that Kat's my ma?" he finally inquired. "Everyone else does."

Luke smiled in understanding. "Because, kid, I was adopted, too."

"You was?"

"Yup. My great aunt Matilda adopted me and my two sisters after my parents died in a fire. Then I spent the next ten years making her life difficult," he winked with a cheeky grin.

"What'd ya do?"

"That, sport, is a story for another time. You two need to get across town to find Jack, and I actually only came in here to get some supplies." He snatched up a tablet and a handful of pencils. "I'm out of here. Enjoy your lunch!"

Romeo watched him leave, then turned back to Kat with a thoughtful expression. "Sooo," he dragged out the word, "is I 'dopted?"

Kat mulled it over and slowly nodded. "Yes. I believe in its most basic of forms, you could say you're adopted."

A grin lit his face. "And the fellas, too?"

Kat nodded.

"Alright!" Romeo cheered, jumping around the room in joy. "We's 'dopted!" He ran back to Kat. "Can I writes Jack a note to find like a surprise when he comes back to work?"

"Of course, but we need to head out so try to make it a quick one."

"OK." He flipped to the next blank page in Jack's tablet. "How do you spell 'our'?" After Kat told him, he painstakingly wrote in lopsided print:

 _Our Famly_

 _Jack Cat_

 _Race Albert_

 _Speks Kruche_

 _Me Anee_

 _Greta Charls_

"Who's 'me'?" Kat asked.

"Me," Romeo declared.

"You wrote everyone else's names, maybe you should write your name, too."

"Oh." He crossed out the 'me' and wrote 'Romeo' beside it.

"Very good," Kat praised. "Jack will love it."

"Fer real?"

"Yes, for real. Now, let's put it back and see if we can find him. I'm getting hungry."

"Me, too." Romeo put the tablet back in its drawer and skipped out of the room ahead of Kat so he could push the button to summon the elevator.

* * *

Not quite fifteen minutes – and Romeo's first taxi ride – later, Kat had the cab driver drop them off at the edge of the park where the winter festival Jack was covering was taking place. She walked hand-in-hand with Romeo down the sidewalk, enjoying the nip in the air and the jovial atmosphere of the crowd.

Romeo tugged her to a stop in front of a shop window displaying a variety of paper, tablets, pens, and other stationery. He pressed his hands against the window as he leaned in to get a better look. He pointed to a journal bound in royal blue canvas with gold embossed letters spelling out "Family Memories" across the front. "Look, Ma," he said reverently.

"It's a pretty journal, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Do ya think if Jack had somethin' like that he could draw us pictures at home like he did at work?"

"I'm sure he would. But he could do that for you in any tablet of paper."

Romeo was set on the beautiful journal.

She hid a grin. "Shall we go inside and see how much it is?"

He hesitated. "Shops don't like for newsies to go inside."

She tugged on his hand. "It'll be fine. You'll see."

A bell tinkled above the door and the shopkeeper bustled out from the back room. He saw Romeo first and his nose wrinkled in distaste. He was just about to ask the ill-dressed boy to leave when he heard a lady clear her throat. His demeanor changed at her obvious wealth. "Good day, ma'am," he gushed, deciding to ignore the urchin for the moment. "Welcome to Willow Tree Stationers. I am Martin Willows, proprietor. How may I be of service to you today?"

She held his gaze for a long moment before telling him, "My son is interested in a journal displayed in your window."

"And which journal is that?"

"Ask him."

"Where is he?"

She glanced down at Romeo, tucked behind her protective arms once more.

Mr. Willows looked down at Romeo, then back at Kat. He mentally shrugged. Who was he to figure out the wealthy? Their money was the same as anyone else's, and perhaps one sale would lead to more. So he smiled down at Romeo and asked, "Well, sir, which journal has caught your eye?"

"Umm, the blue one? With the gold writin' on it?"

"Ah, yes. A striking book, is it not?" He plucked the book out of the window and presented it to Romeo, who tentatively reached for it.

When it was fully in his grasp, he relaxed and showed it to Kat. "Ain't it pretty?" He flipped it open.

"It is, indeed," Kat agreed.

"Oh," he muttered in disappointment.

"What?"

"The pages gots lines on 'em."

"Is that not what you were expecting?" Mr. Willows asked.

"Do ya gots any with plain pages?"

"Plain pages?"

"We were looking for a book for drawing and sketching," Kat explained.

"Ah!" Mr. Willows nodded in understanding. "Yes. We have a selection of sketchbooks right over here." He placed the blue journal back in the display and led them to another part of the store.

"Does any of 'em gots fancy gold writin' on the fronts?"

Mr. Willows smiled. This kid had a certain charm about him. "Yes. That line of journals is also available in sketchbooks.

Romeo's face lit up when he saw his choices. He finally selected an emerald green one that said "Family Stories" on the front.

"How much do it cost?"

"This one is thirty-five cents."

Romeo went to the counter, dug in his pocket, and pulled out a handful of change, mostly pennies.

"How many papes did you sell today?" Kat asked him, helping him sort the coins.

"'Bout fifty. I wanted to be done in case I seen you or Jack." He started arranging the coins the way Jack had taught him: piles for tomorrow's papes, for today's lunch, today's lodging, and today's supper. Everything else was for spending or saving. After he had it all divided, his shoulders slumped. "I don't gots enough."

"Let's think this through again," Kat suggested. "This pile is your profits, right? And these three are for meals and a bed?" She got a mischievous look on her face and she softly sang a reminder, "Seems to me there's a rule about family..."

He looked puzzled as he followed her finger tapping each of the three piles then the word 'family' on the cover of the sketchbook. Suddenly it clicked. "Family don't pay to stay!"

"That's right!"

"So's I can get it?"

"Check and see."

He counted his available coins again and found he could afford the book after all, with a little left over. "I'll take it!" he crowed triumphantly, pushing piles of coins at Mr. Willows.

The shopkeeper chuckled. This child was truly delightful, even under the dirty face and ragged clothes. "Certainly, sir," he said, swiping the coins off the counter and placing them in the register. "Shall I wrap it for you?"

"Uh, yeah? But first could I use your pencil to write somethin' in it?"

"You may."

Romeo took the proffered pencil and carefully wrote 'For Jack Kelly From Romeo Kelly' on the first page. Then he scooped up the rest of his money from the counter as Mr. Willows wrapped the sketchbook in brown paper and twine. "Come on, Ma! Let's go find Jack!"

"Romeo, wait for me by the door. I'll be there in a minute."

"OK," he agreed, watching the activities in the street.

"Mr. Willows, I want to thank you for your patience with my son. It meant a lot to him and to me."

"He seems a remarkable lad."

"He is."

"I was most impressed with his budgeting technique."

She smiled. "It's hard sometimes for young children to understand their economic needs when they work and live on the streets. My husband taught the coin piles method quite successfully to many of the children he found looking up to him." She selected a few pencils and laid them and some coins on the counter.

He bundled the pencils into a small bag and handed it to her with a smile.

"Thank you again, Mr. Willows. I shall let my friends know your shop comes most highly recommended."

"Thank you very much, ma'am." As she opened the door, a memory clicked in his head. "Excuse me, ma'am?"

She turned in the doorway. "Yes?"

"If I may be so bold as to ask, Jack Kelly...?"

"Is my husband."

"That strike? A year or so ago, with the kids and newspapers?"

She grinned. "That's him."

"Then you are –"

"Mrs. Jack Kelly." She stepped out, pulling the door closed behind her. Just before it clicked shut, she stuck her head back in and announced with a small grin, "nee Pulitzer." She winked at him. "We'll be back, Mr. Willows. Have a nice day!"

He shook his head in disbelief. Who was he to know anything about the wealthy, but wouldn't his wife love to hear the story about the poor, rich urchin who visited their shop with Pulitzer's daughter!

* * *

Outside, Kat and Romeo walked among the vendor and food booths. Romeo hugged Jack's gift tightly to his chest, chattering about his purchase, alternately excited and nervous about it. "Do ya think he'll like it? Really?"

"You'll have to ask him yourself," Kat pointed to a man standing a little way ahead of them. Jack was at a booth, idly browsing the wares available.

"Jack!" Romeo ran to Jack, who turned just in time to catch him as he tripped and fell.

"Hey, slugger! Slow down!" Jack set Romeo back on his feet. "You OK?"

Romeo nodded, suddenly speechless in front of this man who had done so much for him over the past year or so.

"What's a matter? Cat got your tongue?"

"Uh," Romeo couldn't think of what to say. He felt Kat's hands on his shoulders and knew everything was OK. He thrust the gift at Jack. "I got you a present," he announced. "I saw it at the store and Ma helped me figure out I could get it 'cause family don't pay and do ya like it?"

Jack shared an amused look with Kat as he ruffled Romeo's hair. "You's somethin' else, kid, ya know that?" He looked down at the boy who was looking up at him with such trust and adoration that his heart nearly cracked. It didn't seem possible that he could love this ragamuffin scamp, but he did. He tucked Romeo under his arm and reached for Kat.

She took his present so they could hold hands. She kissed his cheek and explained, "Romeo was waiting for me as I was leaving work, so we decided we would both join you for lunch today."

"Ah," Jack responded with a twinkle in his eye. "I wondered at the pleasant surprise."

"Are ya gonna open your present, Jack?" Romeo asked impatiently.

"Let's find a place to sit down and I'll get right to it," Jack promised.

They found an empty bench on the outskirts of the festivities. Romeo was too impatient to sit still, so he stood in front of them, taking the gift from Kat and thrusting it back at Jack.

"What's the occasion?" Jack asked Romeo as he accepted the gift.

"Huh?"

"There's usually a special reason for giving someone a present."

"Uhhh," Romeo looked to Kat for help.

"No special reason. He just saw this in the shop window and thought you would like it," Kat explained.

"Yeah," Romeo agreed. "Do ya?"

"Gimme a minute," Jack protested lightly, tugging at the twine.

Romeo was bouncing from foot to foot in anticipation of Jack's reaction.

Jack laughed at his antics. "Settle down, kid, or you's gonna hurt somethin'."

"I never gave someone a present before and I just doesn't know is ya gonna like it."

"Romeo, I knows I'm gonna love it. Now, sit down," he patted the bench, "you's makin' me nervous."

Kat giggled softly.

Romeo knelt next to Jack and hung on his shoulder as Jack peeled away the paper. When at last the book was revealed, Jack smiled as he traced the gold lettering on the front.

"Do ya likes it, Jack?" a worried voice whispered near his ear.

Jack turned his head to reassure Romeo that he liked the book. At the look in Romeo's eyes, he froze for an instant at a long-forgotten memory suddenly resurfacing in his mind.

 _The winter Eddie had been born, Jack had found a dime on the sidewalk. He'd tucked it in his pocket and dreamed all day about how to spend his newfound wealth. That night, when Pop had come home between jobs, he'd mentioned to Ma that his gloves had another hole in them. The next day, Jack had taken his dime to the general store on the corner and bought his father a brand new pair of gloves, good, thick gloves without any holes in them. He nearly drove Ma crazy with his impatience for Pop to get home. When Pop finally arrived, he'd barely had time to sit down before Jack had given him the gift. Pop had stared at the gloves for what seemed like forever. Looking back, Jack supposed that his parents had a million better uses for that much money, but if so, neither had ever said so. Instead, as Pop looked at his young son, he thought not of the expense of the gift, but how the gloves were an expression of a son's love for his father, and he was rendered speechless. As his father had tried on the gloves – they were a perfect fit – he had said, "Truly, no man in the world has as fine a son as I do," and he'd pulled Jack into a bear hug._

Looking at Romeo now, Jack was reminded of himself that long ago day, wanting nothing more than to show his Pop how much he loved him. Jack imagined his father had probably felt as Jack felt now, so Jack did the same thing his father had done: he pulled Romeo onto his lap and hugged him tightly. "It's one of the best presents I ever got from anyone, Romeo. Thank you."

For the space of two or three heartbeats, Romeo stared pensively at Jack, then his face lit up as he beamed. He flipped the book open to show Jack all the blank pages. "I got it for ya 'cause I's hopin' you'd draw us pictures for at home like ya gots in your desk at work. I wanted to bring it home to show the fellas, but Ma said we had to leave it there 'cause it's yours. So I thought you might could have one that was yours that you left at home?"

Jack laughed. "You's wantin' pictures?"

Romeo nodded eagerly.

"Ya gotta give me room, then."

Romeo slid down to sit between Jack and Kat.

Jack reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a stub of a pencil.

"Here," a bag of new pencils materialized before him. He smiled his thanks to his wife and flipped to the front page and froze again when he read the inscription in Romeo's untidy scrawl.

Romeo pointed to it. "See? I wrote down that I gave it to ya so's ya wouldn't forget."

"That ain't likely to happen, squirt," Jack assured him in a hoarse voice. "'Kelly,' huh?" He moved his finger over Romeo's name.

"Yeah, the man at the desk put that in the book so's I can come and see you and Ma anytime I want. Ma didn't tell him it was wrong, so," he shrugged, "it must be right."

Jack cleared his throat. "I guess so." He took a deep, steadying breath before selecting a new pencil and handing the bag to Romeo. "Let's see what we can do."

Romeo and Kat watched in fascination as, right there beneath Romeo's words, Jack's pencil somehow created a sketch of a woman and a boy looking in a shop window.

"Hey! That's me and Ma!"

"Yeah."

"You seen us?"

"I saw ya lookin'. I didn't know you's went in." Jack looked down at Romeo. "I was still lookin' for stuff to draw for work."

"How do you do it?"

"I don't know, squirt. I just draws what I see. I picks up a pencil and pictures come out of it."

Romeo squirreled under Jack's arm to lean against him as Jack turned the page and drew several sketches of the members of their patched-together family.

After the last one, Jack overrode Romeo's requests for more. "Let's leave some pages for later. I promised your Ma lunch, and she's lookin' a bit hungry right now."

Just then, Romeo's stomach grumbled loudly.

"Oh, ho! Maybe you's the hungry one?"

Romeo rubbed his empty stomach. "I could eat," he admitted.

"Then let's go find us some lunch," Jack suggested.

"A fine idea," Kat agreed.

They had taken only a few steps before realizing that Romeo was not with them. They turned and saw a very worried boy rooted to the spot.

"What's the matter? Ain't ya hungry?" Jack asked.

"Yeah..., but, um..."

"What's on your mind?"

"I's just wonderin' did ya mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"'Bout me bein' a good son for ya?"

Jack was stunned. Of all the things Romeo could have said, that was the last one he'd ever have expected. "Did I say that out loud?"

Romeo's face fell and his shoulders slumped in disappointment. "That's OK. We can still be just brothers."

Jack handed his book to Kat and went to sit on the bench, turning Romeo to face him. Jack's heart melted at the crestfallen expression on the boy's face. And where did the kid get such huge eyes? Large brown eyes now swimming in tears he was trying desperately not to shed.

Jack looked to Kat for help. She smiled encouragement but was obviously going to leave this up to him. He saw her love for him in her eyes, and gained confidence from that. He took a deep breath and looked back at Romeo. A couple of tears had finally escaped and trickled down his cheeks. "Hey, there's no reason for any of that." He wiped away the tears with his thumbs.

"Sorry," Romeo mumbled.

"For what?" Jack asked. "Kat'll be the first to tell ya that sometimes ya gotta cry."

"Why?"

"I can't remember all the reasons, but, trust me, it helps sometimes."

"Oh."

"Look, Romeo, when I said that about havin' a son, I was hearin' my Pop say it to me when I was a kid. I didn't know I was sayin' it out loud, too."

"It's OK, Jack."

"Shut up, will ya?" Jack took a breath, trying to gather his thoughts. "It's just that I didn't know you wanted a father."

"I didn't know neither, 'til you said that."

"Yeah, well," Jack cleared his throat, "Truth is, I didn't know I wanted a son 'til you asked if I meant what I said."

Hope began to blossom in Romeo's expression.

"I think you'd be a fine son for any man," Jack continued softly.

"Even you?"

"Why'd you want to pick me? I ain't never been a father before. I could be awful at it."

"But you won't be," joy laced Romeo's words as he felt like he might be getting the wish he didn't know he'd had.

"How do you know?" Jack asked, truly puzzled.

A soft hand covered his. A gentle kiss pecked his cheek. A tender voice whispered in his ear, "Just love him. The rest will come natural."

He looked at his wife in awe, a feeling of joy spreading through him as she repeated his own words of this morning back to him. He supposed she was right. He'd never been a father before, but she'd never been a mother, either, and she seemed to be doing a fine job. "You'll help me?" he whispered back.

She caressed his cheek. "Of course."

He kissed her, then said, "I don't know why I's anyone's choice for friend, much less a brother, a husband," he looked at Kat and smiled, "or father," he looked at Romeo, "bit if ya wants me, ya gots me."

Romeo stiffened with excitement and hope that he'd heard correctly. "For real?"

"Yeah, kid, for real."

Romeo looked between Jack and Kat. "You'll be my Pop?"

"Yeah. Soon's ya make up your mind about it," Jack chuckled.

Romeo fell into Jack's arms, hugging his neck, crying tears of frustration and happiness. They only lasted a minute or two before he nestled between them, beaming with unabashed elation. "I never, ever thought I'd have a mother _and_ a father," he sighed blissfully, leaning against Jack and holding Kat's hand.

"Join the club, kid. I never though I'd have a _wife_ ," he smiled at Kat, "much less a son, a houseful of brothers, a housekeeper aunt and her daughter, and a butler uncle."

Romeo and Kat laughed heartily at his descriptions of their family. Then they laughed even harder as Romeo's stomach rumbled again.

"Shall we finally go find our lunch?" Kat asked, standing.

"Yeah!" both guys agreed enthusiastically.

They set off for the restaurant, Jack and Kat, hand-in-hand, while Romeo danced and ran in front of them.


	11. Chapter 11: Five'll Getcha Ten

A couple hours after Jack and the girls left for the day, Charles went to check on Crutchie.

"Mornin'!"

Charles jumped, startled at Crutchie's greeting. "Goodness, you gave me a fright," he chuckled. "Have you been awake long?"

"Nah. A few minutes, I guess."

"Excellent. I would hate for you to feel we were neglecting you."

"How could I think that? This is the best bed I ever slept in, I'm warm and dry, and gots plenty to eat."

Charles worked his way around the room while they chatted: opening the curtains, stoking the fire, tidying up, checking Crutchie's splints. "That is certainly true, but there is more to life than just those comforts."

"Like what?"

"Companionship?"

"The fellas'll visit when they's done sellin' papes."

"More than likely. But what will you do with your day until they arrive?"

"Dunno. Lay here and watch stuff out the window, I s'pose."

Charles chuckled again. "Now, Greta will have none of that, and, frankly, neither will I."

"Whacha mean?"

"Young man, though your injuries have rendered you temporarily incapacitated, there is no reason for you to remain abed, idling the hours away."

Crutchie's brow furrowed as he worked to understand what Charles was talking about. In the end he said, "What?"

Greta bustled in, pushing a tea trolley bearing a large pot of hot water on the top tray and a towel, soap, sponge, and clean clothes on the bottom. "What he means, Crutchie, is that you aren't dead, so there's no reason to stay in bed all day."

"Quite right," agreed Charles.

"But first things first," Greta announced, "bath time!"

Crutchie paled. "You ain't–" he quaked at Greta.

Charles cleared his throat. "It is your choice as to whether Greta or I will assist you, but you will receive a bath."

Crutchie gulped. "Ummm, Charles? I guess?"

Greta chuckled. "I expected as much." She felt Crutchie's forehead for fever and, satisfied he was still on the mend, she cupped his face in her hands and looked at him fondly. "Trust me, you'll feel better once you're cleaned up."

"She's right," Charles confirmed.

"Now, hurry it up, gentlemen. Crutchie's breakfast is waiting and I don't want it to get cold."

"I's had cold breakfast before."

Greta turned a stern look on him. "Not in _this_ house, you haven't, and I don't mean for you to start today. So hop to it." She marched from the room muttering about her boys living on the streets.

Crutchie looked at Charles, not knowing whether to be amused or alarmed.

Charles merely chuckled under his breath, not concerned at all over Greta's indignant display. She was, he was learning, quite protective of those she loved, and she definitely loved these boys.

Crutchie relaxed, but cast a wary eye at the bathing items on the trolley. "Do we really gotta do that?" he asked nervously. "Ain't I clean enough?"

Charles carefully moved Crutchie from the bed to a chair he had moved closer to the warmth of the fire. "Yes, you must bathe this morning. Doctor's orders. Trust me, you will feel much better afterward."

Crutchie obviously had his doubts but didn't see a way out of it, so he stopped protesting. It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, and he found he did feel somewhat better, if a bit tired. "Why'm I so tired, Charles? I just got up." He yawned.

"Your body has been brutally traumatized. When you rest, your body works to heal itself. When you are awake, your body continues the healing process but must also allow you to function as you normally would. As it is doing two things at once, you tire more easily."

"'S'that so?" Crutchie asked sleepily, his head nodding, eyelids struggling to stay open.

Charles smiled fondly at his weary patient. "Indeed." He opted to clothe Crutchie in a clean nightshirt instead of the other clothing Greta had included on the cart. When Crutchie was dressed, Charles carefully scooped him up and placed him back in bed.

"No," mumbled Crutchie. "Don't wanna stay here all day," his voice trailed off to a whisper.

Charles tucked the covers in around the nearly sleeping boy. "When you awake once again, you can move into the kitchen," he promised.

Crutchie smiled as he finally fell to sleep. He didn't sleep long, beginning to rouse an hour or so later. He was very nearly awake when Charles returned with Dr. Morrison in tow.

"Hello, Crutchie. How are you feeling this morning?" the doctor asked.

"Uh, good? I guess?"

Dr. Morrison smiled in understanding. "Under the circumstances, I guess that's the best we can hope for. I apologize for not coming by yesterday, but an emergency surgery and a difficult childbirth kept me occupied. I knew you were in good hands with Greta and the others so I didn't worry overmuch about how you were faring."

"S'OK," Crutchie assured him warily.

"Let's take a look and see how you're doing this morning, shall we?"

After a thorough examination, Doc pronounced Crutchie as doing very well. The bruises and cuts were still various shades of purple and red, with a touch of yellow stain from the iodine, but the swelling was drastically reduced, and none of the cuts, including the stab wounds, appeared to be infected. "Excellent," beamed the doctor. "Now, let's check your legs."

Crutchie paled and nervously backed up as far as his pillows would allow.

"What's wrong? Do they still hurt?"

Crutchie nodded.

Dr. Morrison patted Crutchie's knee. "That's to be expected. They are broken, after all. But part of it is the splints. As good as they are – and they're definitely better than nothing at all, as _you_ well know – they do have a tendency to slip a bit, the ties can get loose, and it's easy to get them over tight. And, if you move your feet, or someone bumps them, you feel it."

Crutchie swallowed, and nodded his agreement.

"Well, we're going to fix that, OK?" Dr. Morrison assured Crutchie as he rummaged in his bag and pulled out several small boxes. "Ta-dah!"

"What's that?"

"These are plaster bandages."

"They's what?"

"Plaster bandages. I'll wet them with some warm water and wrap them around your feet and legs. When they dry, you'll have a hard plaster cast over your broken bones. The casts won't get too loose, won't need to be tightened, and will make it easier for you to move about because they'll hold your legs still and in the proper positions while they heal."

"Really?"

"Yes. But I should warn you that they should not get wet, so you'll be confined to sponge baths until they come off."

"How long will that be?"

"We'll check to see how your legs are doing in a month or so, but it might take six to eight weeks for them to heal completely."

"Eight weeks!" Crutchie exclaimed in disappointment.

"Perhaps," Doc cautioned, "but it could take _less_ time. It all depends on your bones and muscles and how you take care of them while they're mending. It might even happen that your left leg will heal faster than your right one."

"Why?"

"Your previous injury wasn't set properly and therefore healed incorrectly. The muscles in that part of your leg became weak with disuse and shrank. When I set that leg, I had to pull the muscles beyond what they've become accustomed to, so we may be looking at additional time for them to heal and strengthen."

"Oh."

"But maybe not," Doc reminded Crutchie. "Focus on positive things and you'll get farther in life. In the meantime, keep your appetite up, stay as active as you can, rest when your body tells you to, and it will all work itself out. OK?"

"OK. I guess."

"Very good. Now, shall we move to the kitchen? The plaster can drip, and I'd hate to ruin the bedding or the rug."

It didn't take long to get things set up in the kitchen. Doc had Charles put Crutchie on the table so he'd have better access to Crutchie's legs. He had just begun wrapping the first leg when Albert and Elmer showed up at the kitchen door, knocking on the door as they opened it.

"Greta!" Albert exclaimed. "How's my favorite person in the world?" He kissed her cheek, then began peeking in the pots she had simmering on the stove.

She shooed him away with a good-natured smile. "You only love me for my cooking," she scolded.

"Better than not bein' loved at all!" He kissed her other cheek then ducked around her to steal two pieces of freshly baked bread. He turned to give one to Elmer, and also to avoid getting rapped on the knuckles by Greta's wooden spoon. "Hey, Crutchie!" He hurried over to see what was going on. "It's good to see ya up!"

"Hiya fellas," Crutchie said wanly.

"You look like hell," Elmer observed.

Crutchie tried to smile. "Thanks."

"Whacha doin', Doc?" Albert asked.

Doc explained about the casts.

"Why didn't ya do that the other night?"

"His legs were too swollen. If I had put casts on while his legs were so swollen, the casts would be too large once the swelling went down."

"Makes sense," Elmer said, popping the last bit of his bread in his mouth.

"So," Albert persisted, "if it's gonna help Crutchie, why's he look like you's pulling his feet off?"

Doc laughed. "Well, the breaks are still fairly new and the splints, as good as they are, aren't the best for keeping the legs and feet totally still, so Crutchie's legs are still tender and hurting."

Elmer leaned in a little closer. "If it's his legs what's broke, why's ya putting that stuff around his feet, too?"

"Putting the cast around his feet will not only keep it from slipping, but will also keep his feet in the correct position so that the muscles will heal properly."

"Oh." They watched in silence for a few minutes more before Elmer asked, "Will he be able to walk once the casts are on?"

"If he had just one broken leg, he could probably get around with his crutch in a day or two. But with two broken legs, he won't be able to walk until at least one cast comes off."

"Bummer."

"How long will they be on?" Albert inquired.

"Anywhere from four to six weeks."

Albert whistled. "That's a long time. What's he s'posed to do to get around 'til they comes off?"

Doc finished up with the first cast and looked at Albert and Elmer, admiring their curiosity about the procedure and the concern for their friend. "Charles has been carrying him around, which will work for the short term. But I'd recommend getting an Invalid's Wheel Chair so he can move himself about the house; well, around the first floor, at any rate."

"That is an excellent suggestion, Doctor," Charles said. "If you have a recommendation, I will send for one immediately after the casts are completed."

Doc noted Crutchie's pale, sweaty pallor and told Charles, "Let me write a note and perhaps these young men can go and fetch the chair for us?" He looked to Albert and Elmer in invitation.

"Yeah, Doc!" They happily agreed. In just a few minutes, Doc had written the requirements for the chair and directed the boys to where they needed to go. "Tell them to call here if they have any question," he added, jotting the phone number on the note, too.

They stole a couple more slices of bread and bounded out of the house, eager to complete their important task.

"Clever move, Doctor," Greta observed, wiping Crutchie's face with a cool cloth.

Doc smiled ruefully. "He's not taking the pain well, and I did the 'easy' leg first. I thought he might appreciate not having his friends see his reaction to the other leg, just in case."

"Thanks, Doc," croaked Crutchie, trying to smile.

Doc patted Crutchie's leg in sympathy. "This cast should be hard enough in about fifteen minutes or so. Let's take a break until then, shall we?"

Crutchie nodded, closing his eyes.

"Greta, can you brew some willowbark tea? That'll help with the pain."

"It's already steeping," she told him. "It'll be ready in a few minutes. In the meantime, Crutchie, nibble on this," she handed him a slice of bread spread thick with butter and jelly. "Charles, help him, will you?"

Charles perched on the table behind Crutchie, supporting him so he didn't fall over.

"Thanks, Greta," Crutchie whispered.

She placed a glass of milk next to him. "It's my pleasure." She smiled at him. "You're a strong lad, you know. This will be over soon, and you can lay back down and rest."

Crutchie nearly cried. "I don't want to be alone again."

"I'll move the cot in here while Doc's tending your other leg. How's that? That'll let you sleep as you need to, but you won't be alone."

Crutchie smiled gratefully, "Sounds great."

"Good," she cradled his face in her hands and looked him in the eye. "You're a special fellow, you know?"

He smiled, doubt and weariness in his eyes.

She smiled back. "Now, eat your bread. It'll give you strength to handle whatever Doc has in store for you. The sooner he begins, the sooner it'll be over. Then you can lay down on the cot in here, OK?"

He nodded. Charles helped him with his snack, then it was time for the other cast. Charles stayed where he was, holding Crutchie up and letting Crutchie squeeze his hand when the pain got too intense.

Crutchie did his best not to cry, but a tear or two leaked out uninvited, and he did hide his face in Charles's shirt once or twice. At long last, Doc announced he was finished. Crutchie almost cried in relief.

Greta brought Crutchie a mug of the willowbark tea she'd brewed. He downed in gratefully, willing to do anything to make the pain go away. In minutes, he was groggy with exhaustion, trying to keep his eyes open.

"Charles, here, before he falls over," she handed him a cool cloth, setting a clean shirt and other clothing on the end of the table. "Give him a quick wipe down and hand that sweaty nightshirt to me."

Charles and Doc got Crutchie undressed, cleaned up, and dressed again. Greta had lengthened the side slits in a pair of knickers in order to accommodate the casts.

"You are an incredible lady," Charles praised her.

"Thank you," she said with a blush. "I just thought that since he didn't want to be alone, he'd rather be dressed like everyone else when he wakes up."

"He does seem to be drifting off again," Charles noted.

"Not unusual, given the physical trauma of the previous days, not to mention how he responded to having the casts put on."

"Doesn't hurt that I added a drop or two of laudanum to his tea, either," admitted Greta with a wink.

Doc nodded his approval. "Good idea. I don't like to use laudanum over much, but it will help his legs relax and stop hurting, so _he_ will relax and begin to see that the casts are his best option." Doc gathered up his things. "Keep an eye on the casts. They are hard on the outside right now, but will need a full day or two to completely harden all the way through. After that, they should be fine as long as they don't get wet. Watch his toes and let me know if anything out of the ordinary occurs."

"Like what?" Charles asked.

"If the cast is too tight, or too loose, or if it gets too itchy...if his toes are any color or condition other than healthy, let me know immediately. If the cast gets wet, let me know, too. I'll have to put another one on, but the good news is that his legs should be much better by then, so it won't hurt him to get new casts."

"Thank you, Doctor. We are much obliged for your time and assistance."

"My pleasure, Charles. Remember, don't hesitate to contact me if you need anything at all."

"We will Doctor," Greta promised.

He left by the back door.

Greta and Charles worked companionably in the kitchen preparing for lunch. Charles assumed the roles of butler and handyman, but when there were no doors to answer or things that needed fixing, he gladly assisted Greta in her household duties, enjoying their time alone getting to know her better.

"How many do you think will come today?" Greta asked absently.

"I would imagine the usual ten or twelve."

"Likely you're right." She started pulling pots down while Charles began setting the table. He had just picked up a stack of plates when the phone rang in the butler's office.

"I'll get it," Greta told him.

The call didn't last long, and Greta soon returned to the kitchen using the hem of her apron to wipe tears of laughter from her eyes. She saw the curious expression on Charles's face and broke into another round of giggles. "It was Romeo," she told him, trying to catch her breath. "He won't be here for lunch."

"This amuses you?" he asked wryly.

She laughed some more. "No. It's Romeo." Her chuckles increased. "When I answered the phone, he seemed surprised to hear me. Then I heard him tell Kat that I was on the phone."

Charles smiled.

"Then," she began laughing in earnest again, "then he came back on the line and," she struggled to catch her breath, "and all but shouted, 'Greta, I's talkin' on the phone!'" She sat down, overcome with laughter.

Charles's laughter joined hers. Romeo's exuberance was quite easy to imagine, and it was not difficult to picture Romeo as he excitedly spoke into a phone for what was likely his first time.

As their laughter tapered off, Greta wiped her eyes with a light-hearted sigh. "Maybe it was nothing, but he was just so adorable in his excitement," she explained, chuckling a little more at the memory.

"He is a lively lad," Charles agreed.

They ruminated silently for a moment before Greta said, "Well, lunch won't make itself and those boys'll be here before you know it."

They stood and resumed their tasks.

"Did Romeo indicate his reason for not dining with us this afternoon?"

"He's eating with Jack and Kat."

"Is he, now? Well, there goes their romantic interlude."

"Yes, but when you have children, you have to learn to expect surprises."

"Young Romeo will certainly be able to provide plenty of those," Charles predicted with a fond smile.

"Indeed. I've never known a child as eager for mothering as that one. He's a sweetheart for certain."

"They are all remarkable boys," Charles commented. "There's not one I wouldn't be proud to claim as my own."

Someone coughed.

Greta and Charles turned to see Race and Specs framed in the doorway. Specs's hand was still on the knob of the door he'd opened without either of the adults hearing. The boys had obviously heard what Charles had said and were looking at him with a mix of longing to belong to someone and making him proud, and embarrassment that they yearned to be not quite as independent as they had become accustomed to being.

Embarrassment won out, for now.

"Better watch out, Charles," Race warned as he bounded into the room, "we may take ya up on that one day."

Specs pinned Charles with a thoughtful gaze for a long moment, but said nothing as he turned to go check on Crutchie. He asked about Crutchie's white boots. Charles explained about the casts. Race wandered over to listen in, and uttered, "Ain't that somethin'?" when Charles was done.

Within the next few minutes, the kitchen was invaded by a handful of boisterous newsies, eager for lunch. The newsies may have been talkative and energetic, but they were polite – or at least learning to be. The rules were simple: no hats at the table, hands were to be washed before sitting down at the table, and ask for things to be passed instead of leaning over and reaching in front of others. For boys that had grown up on the streets with few, if any rules of propriety and etiquette, Charles and Greta were impressed at how easily the boys adapted to them. When the boys were done, they carried their plates to the sink before they left, with a hearty 'thank you,' a hug or a kiss for Greta, and handshake for Charles.

Today, everyone who came to eat noticed Crutchie and his casts. Once everyone was seated, Specs updated them on what had happened to Crutchie and how his healing was progressing. Predictably, most of the newsies were outraged – Crutchie was universally liked, plus newsies didn't like anyone attacking one of their own without good reason.

Race was quick to step in and quash any feelings of retribution. "Jack and Spot and Davey says not to do nothin' 'bout it just yet," he told them decisively. Over their protests, he explained, "None of ya's was there, so ya don't know who the guys what did this is. Me and Specs _was_ there, and we still wouldn't know 'em if we saw 'em. What they needs us to do more than soakin' the scabs what did this to Crutchie is to keep our eyes and ears open to see if we can figure out who did it and why. If ya hears anythin' or sees anythin', come straight away to tell Jack. Got that?"

Reluctant agreement came from everyone at the table.

"Spread the word to all the other newsies that they's not to do nothin' but keep watch. Don't even do or say nothin' that will cause someone else to wanta bust some heads. Got it?"

More nodding and mumbled agreement.

"Jack also says that until we figure out if this was just a muggin' because a crip was walkin' alone at night or if it's somethin' more than that, we should prob'ly not be goin' anywhere alone. OK? Make sure ya gots at least one other person with ya, 'specially at night 'til Jack says it's safe."

The boys all agreed and said they'd spread the word, but could they please eat now. Everyone laughed and the meal commenced, a little subdued at first, but quickly rising to its usual boisterous levels.

Today, in an unusual move, Race and Specs stayed behind after all the others had finished their meal and left. They were unusually quiet as they pitched in and helped wash the dishes, put away the food, and sweep the floor. When everything was done, all four of them sat back at the table, with Greta serving generous slices of cake to everyone. Charles asked them what was on their minds.

Race and Specs exchanged a wary look. Race shrugged. Specs told them, "I was doin' some math."

"And what have your calculations shown you?"

"It's six cents each for lunch and supper and a place to sleep at night. Breakfast from the Sisters is free, but for a breakfast like Greta wants us to have, it's prob'ly another six cents. That's almost two bits a day."

"Yes."

"What could we possibly do to earn our keep for twenty-five cents a day? That's a lot of money."

Before Charles or Greta could offer an answer, there was a banging on the front door. Charles, naturally, got up to answer the summons, but the other three followed in his wake. The muffled sound of Charles's name being shouted could be heard through the heavy door.

"That sounds like Albert," Specs mused.

As the door opened, Race confirmed, "It _is_ Albert. And Finch and Elmer. And what in the world has they got?"

"Step aside you guys!" Albert ordered as he pulled and the other two pushed the wheelchair inside. As they got it in and released their burden, Albert explained, "It ain't so much that it's heavy, but all them wheels made it hard to get up the steps and the porch out there ain't big enough for it."

"Yup," agreed Elmer. "Good thing Finch came along to help."

Finch smiled. "Glad to be of service, gents," he said in his best imitation of Charles.

"What's it for?" Race asked, inspecting it closely.

"Crutchie," Albert told him.

"Hey, yeah, I heard he got soaked," Finch said. "How's he doin'?"

"Well enough for the moment," Greta answered, then got on to a more pressing matter. "Have you three eaten lunch?"

"I's good," Finch told her.

She glared at him.

"Umm, no?" he squeaked. "I ain't eaten yet today, but I's used to it. Ain't no big deal..." his already sheepish voice trailed off at the stern look Greta was leveling at him.

She looked at Elmer, who cowered behind Albert and shook his head.

Albert laughed and kissed Greta's cheek as he proclaimed, "I left to get that contraption before lunch was ready." He headed back to the kitchen. "I hope there's still somethin' left!"

Specs and Race laughed at Elmer and Finch, who scooted down the hall behind Albert as Greta glared at them and pointed.

Charles chuckled as he checked for any dawdling guests, then shut and locked the front door. He ushered the other two boys back to the kitchen ahead of him, Specs pushing Race in Crutchie's new chair.

Once everyone was settled around the table with lunch and cake, Specs reviewed his math again for Albert.

Albert whistled in dismay. "Specs is right, Charles. How's we ever gonna work off that much in a day? Maybe all together we could do two bits, but that's two bits each per fella, every day. More'n that, even, 'cause Greta don't make no six cents meals. Hers is worth way more'n that!"

Greta smiled at him.

Race and Specs agreed with Albert in quiet tones. Elmer and Finch looked confused.

"What're you guys talkin' about?" Finch asked.

Race explained. "Me, Specs, Albert, Romeo, and Crutchie is gonna live here with Jack and Kat permanent, but Jack won't let us pay no money for lodgin' or food, so's we gotta think of somethin' to do to earn our keep, only Specs figured out our keep is about two bits a day each and that's too much for us to work off."

The boys got quiet. Charles let them stew over the situation for a bit before he broke the silence. "Greta, how much do you charge Annie when you wash her clothes?"

Greta's eyes sparkled as she said, "Nothing, of course."

"I see."

There was a brief pause as he appeared to contemplate what she'd said. "How much does she pay you for the meals you prepare for her?"

"She pays no money, if that's what you mean."

"If not with money, with what does she pay?"

"With time and assistance."

"Interesting. I wonder if you would you care to elaborate?"

"As Annie's mother, it is my duty to provide for her. I see she eats, has clean clothes in good repair, and a place to come home to each night. In return, she helps me by doing what she can."

"What sorts of things does she do?"

"She helps prepare meals by doing things like chopping vegetables and meat or baking bread and desserts. In her room, she keeps it tidy – everything put away, bed made, and so forth – so I can easily clean it. She's learning how to clean and, sometimes, if there's time, I'll let her practice."

"Ain't she goin' to school?" Albert asked. "How's she do all that and still go to school?"

Greta smiled. "Her education is the most important thing for her to do right now. After school, she studies here, in the kitchen, and tells me of her day and what she learned. If she has an assignment to work on, she does that while I prepare the evening meal. It she doesn't have any homework, she can help me."

"But you's her real ma and she don't got no job, so she can't pay money," Race pointed out.

"I should like to remind you that, according to the terms of the decision each of you made last night, you essentially agreed for Jack and Katherine to act _in loco parentis_ on your behalf."

Five pairs of eyes stared blankly at him.

"Uh...what?" Race finally queried.

"Who you callin' crazy?" Albert asked. "'Cause Jack ain't crazy. Neither is Mare."

"Who's Mare?" Finch asked.

"Kat," Albert answered absently.

"You's all crazy," Finch muttered.

Greta snickered.

"I assure you, I am casting aspersion on no one, least of all Jack or Katherine. _In loco parentis_ is a Latin phrase meaning "in the place of parents." You agreed to their acting as your parents in exchange for living here on a permanent basis."

"I ain't gonna have no one tell me what I can and can't do," Race decreed hotly.

"Shut up," Specs scoffed at him. "When have Jack or Mare ever tried to do that?"

Race quickly settled down. "Well, never," he admitted, "but don't parents have tons of rules and such so kids can't have no fun?"

"Jack and Katherine are hardly the dictatorial sort," Charles assured them. "Did they request you live with them? Or did they force you to stay?"

"Begged, is more like it," Albert said, digging into his cake. "Said they wanted it a long time ago but didn't want us to think they was runnin' our life."

"Precisely," Charles agreed.

"And, last night, did Kat not say that we get to define how our family works?" Greta reminded them.

"Yeah," said three boys.

"So why would that change simply because you now understand a few things a little better?"

"I guess it wouldn't," Race conceded.

"But two bits is still a lot of money," Specs insisted.

"It is," Charles concurred, "but the fact of the matter is that the value of a service lies with the recipient, not with the provider."

Once again, five blank faces looked at him.

"Think of it this way: if a man offers to pay you ten dollars to write a note for him, what would you say?"

"Hell, yeah!" the boys all said. "Easy money, that!"

"Ah, but here's the twist: the note must be written in the next ten minutes and you have no pencil, no paper, and no money. What do you do?"

The boys thought, but could come up with no solution that would end up with their getting the reward.

"Then Annie comes along and allows you to use her paper and pencil, for which she paid, at most, five cents."

"She got there before the time was up?"

"Yes. You were able to successfully fulfill the request."

"All right!"

"I ask you, then, what was the value of Annie's services? She paid a small amount, a mere nickel, for the needed items, but without them, and her generosity, you would not have earned the ten dollars."

"I sees your point," Specs remarked with a thoughtful grin.

"Yeah" Race mumbled with less confidence than Specs.

"I don't care," declared Albert. "Ten dollars or a nickel, the question is, does I get to stay?"

"You do," Charles confirmed with a hearty chuckle.

"Good." He looked at Greta. "Can I have some more cake?"

Greta laughed as she stood. "Try another sandwich first." She put the bread and other fixings on the table with a gesture indicating that everyone should help themselves. Albert and Elmer made themselves sandwiches; the others just took bits and pieces to snack on.

Specs nibbled a piece of cheese as he mulled over what Charles had told them. "The story goes both ways, don't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"We got about a nickel to our name, but what we can do to help Greta and you will seem like the ten dollars."

"It certainly will," Greta stated.

"And we know our livin' here don't take much for us, but it'll make Jack and Mare a hundred dollars happy, right?"

"It will."

"But 'cause Mare was a Pulitzer, she and Jack gots a lot of money, so them sharin' it with us is like Annie's nickel."

Charles grinned in delight at Specs's understanding.

"Sooo," Race drawled, beginning to understand, "then if that's the nickel, we gets the ten dollars by livin' and eatin' here and stuff?"

"In part," Charles corrected. "Your ten dollars comes from allowing them to provide for you as parents would, which will include more than room and board, but which they are happy and eager to provide for you."

"It still don't seem right," Race protested.

"That's because you're focusing on the monetary values," Greta told him. "You need to look beyond that to the intentions behind the actions."

"What's that?"

"Jack and Kat want you to live here because they love you and want you to have a better future than you might have had otherwise. Yes, that'll cost more money than you'll ever make as a newsie, but they have enough to share and want nothing more than to share it with you.

"On the other hand, you want to show your appreciation for their generosity, but they won't take your money. You can do that by helping out around the house and exploring some of the options they're hoping you'll be interested in."

"Like what?"

"Getting an education, for starters. Thinking about what you want to do after you stop selling papers is definitely on the list. And I think they'd like it if you got to experience little things like taking a day off and doing something just for the fun of it."

The room was silent for a few minutes as the boys mulled this over.

Race's face cleared as he figured it out. "So...they's got money to spare and we's got time to spare, and they even each other out. Is that it?"

Charles beamed. "That is it precisely, my dear boy!"

Greta moved to stand behind Race. She ruffled his hair and kissed the top of his head. "I knew you were a smart one," she praised.

He blushed but didn't try to escape her attentions.

"Now," Greta said, "you can start using some of that spare time by gathering the dishes for me and serving cake to anyone who still wants some, including yourself," she looked him directly in the eye to make sure he knew he was welcome to cake.

He grinned like a happy idiot as he stood to do Greta's bidding. "Charles, I don't care what you say those words mean, Jack and Mare is definitely crazy if they wants to spend money on the likes of us, but if that's what they wants to do, then who'm I to say no?"

"Brilliant deduction, my good lad. Brilliant," Charles praised.

"You guys is so lucky," Elmer commented, longing in his voice.

"Whacha mean?" Albert asked, tucking in to the cake Race placed in front of him.

"You gets to stay here all the time now. Must be nice."

"Yeah," agreed Finch.

"Only been a couple a days, really, but it is nice," Albert responded.

"Why don't you two stay here, too?" Specs asked them, also accepting a second piece of cake.

"We couldn't," Finch protested half-heartedly.

"Ask Charles. Jack'd love to have you stay here, so's he don't hafta worry 'bout ya at night," Albert told them.

They looked at Charles who nodded to confirm Albert's words.

"Truth is," Specs added, "if they had the room, they'd prob'ly take in all the newsies," chuckles sounded around the table, "but they'll settle on the ones that're particular special to Jack, and you two's definitely one of those."

"We are?" Finch asked.

"Didn't Jack find ya and teach ya how to sell papes?"

Both boys nodded.

"Then you's in." Specs shrugged, as if that said it all. "We ain't even picked out our rooms yet, so you's come at a good time."

"I knows they lets us sleep here no problem every now and then," Finch protested. "How's ya know they'll let us stay permanent like you without us even askin'?"

"Yeah," Elmer added. "Race, you been tellin' us Jack and Kat ain't been married long enough to want so many of us around all the time. What changed to make it OK now?"

"Jack told Race he was stupid to be thinkin' that," chortled Albert.

"Shut up," Race protested

Charles interrupted. "Boys, it does me proud to hear you want to ask before moving in, and you definitely should, to be polite. I agree with the others that you will be welcomed with open arms, but none of us, especially Jack and Katherine, want you to feel forced to stay. It is entirely your choice."

Elmer opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He tried again and blurted out, "Does I have to keep sellin' papes if I stays?"

"The details of your stay will be worked out with Jack and Katherine, but I imagine that they would be quite happy with your pursuing other interests, especially an education."

"If'n I wants to do somethin' besides workin' in a factory or anythin' like that, I gotta have schoolin', right?"

"An education does help expand the horizon for future possibilities, yes."

"Charles, a fella's gotta have an education to understand the things you says," Race declared.

Good-natured laughter erupted around the table. As it died down, Greta looked at Elmer and Finch. "Boys, if you would like to live here along with the others, you will be welcome. If you want to continue to sell papers, you can; if you'd like to go to school or try a different job, you'll be able to do that, too. If you decide to keep on as you are, staying the occasional night or two every now and then, that's OK, too. As Charles pointed out, it is entirely your choice.

"As for now, once these three boys get all the plates and food off the table," Race, Specs, and Albert jumped up to do her bidding, "we're going to discuss the things they can do in exchange for staying here. Why don't you stick around to see what we come up with and you can use that to help you make your decision?"

Elmer shrugged. "I thinks I's gonna stay, if Jack'll let me. I don't much like sellin' papes, anyway."

Finch nodded. "Me, too."

Greta smiled fondly at them both. "We are all happy to have you. Now, Specs, if you'll bring me the tablet and a pencil from my desk, we'll get started."


	12. Chapter 12: Fire Cats and Growly Bears

After a lunch that had Romeo speechless, albeit only temporarily, with the number of choices available, they decided to walk for a little while. It was a part of town Romeo hadn't been in before, so he would run ahead two or three shop windows, then race back to report what he'd seen. Jack and Kat followed at a more leisurely pace, hand-in-hand, as Jack preferred, though it never bothered Kat one bit to hold her husband's hand. Usually, they'd chat about something, but today, Jack was deep in thought. Kat was content with his silence as it let her respond to Romeo's excited chattering, but after several minutes, she finally asked what was on his mind.

"Romeo."

"What about him?"

"I never expected to be a father to anyone quite so soon..."

She squeezed his hand.

"...but now that I is, I don't want no one to take it away."

"What do you mean?"

"He run away from a orphanage, but that don't necessarily mean he don't got parents. I don't want someone showin' up at our door someday sayin' they's Romeo's folks and we never see him again."

Kat pondered that for a moment. "I don't think that could happen. He's been on his own for so long he'd be hard to trace." She felt Jack stiffen beneath her fingers. "Don't get all ruffled up. I don't see it happening, but I agree with you that it'd be better to explore all the options." Jack relaxed again and she smiled. "He's said more than once that his parents died when he was really young, so we should probably start at the orphanage he was sent to."

"Yeah."

The next time Romeo came back with news of the next few windows, Jack asked, "Romeo, where'd you run away from before you became a newsie?"

Romeo was instantly on guard. "Why? You ain't sendin' me back is ya?"

"No, ya nitwit," Jack rebutted, hauling Romeo in and wrapping protective arms around him. He looked down at the little boy with the trusting brown eyes. "I done told ya, and Kat has, too, you's stayin' with us permanent. And now that we's your ma and pop, you _really_ ain't goin' nowhere, so you just get such stupid stuff outta your head. Got it?"

Romeo relaxed into Jack's hold. "OK," he agreed. "So why ya wanna know where I was?"

"'Cause I don't want no one showin' up one day to say you's theirs and make ya go away with 'em."

"Oh," he nudged his way between them and held their hands as they continued down the sidewalk. "I don't know where it was I ran away from. I got sent there when I was old enough 'cause the other place ran outta room for older kids."

"Where was the other place?"

Romeo shrugged. "Dunno. But it was real big and the ladies what took care of us wore big white dresses and funny white hats."

"The Foundling Hospital," Kat guessed.

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "Hey, Romeo, go see what's in that window up there. The one under the red awning."

"OK!" And he was off.

"So, should we go there, or what?" Jack asked Kat.

"I don't know how adoption works, but I'd hate for them to take him from us if we show up with him. He's a runaway, so they might want to keep him there until the adoption is final, however long that takes."

"They ain't takin' my son from me," Jack declared in fierce tones.

"Hey," Kat soothed, placing a cool hand on his cheek. "No one's going to do that. Why don't we visit Adam Franklin and have him look into it for us?"

"Who's that?"

"Our attorney."

"Oh. Yeah," he smiled. "Just so he knows no one's takin' Romeo."

"You're cute when you're all riled up," Kat giggled, kissing his cheek, then hooking her elbow in his and walking toward Romeo. "We could have him investigate the other boys, too, just in case."

Jack's face split into a wide grin. "He could do that?"

"We can ask."

"Then they'd be officially ours and no one could take 'em?"

"Yes, but I still don't see it happening."

"Call it insurance, Kat. If we can do it, I want it done."

She hugged his arm. "If it can be done, Adam will know. If it can't, he'll figure it out anyway."

Jack relaxed. "Can we go there now?"

"Sure. Let's get our boy first, though."

"Where's he?"

Romeo was plastered to the large window beneath the red awning. Kat barely glanced at the items on display, but Romeo wouldn't budge.

"Ma? Is them those toys you was showin' me in the catalog?"

Kat took another look and choked back a laugh. "Yes, sweetie, this is a toy store."

He looked up at her with large, pleading eyes. She looked at Jack and noticed his attention was snared by a display of western-style toys. She laughed at her boys. "Why don't we go in and check things out?" she suggested.

Romeo was in like a shot, and Jack barely remembered to hold the door open for her. He went straight to the cowboy-themed section, but Kat stuck with Romeo. Given his reception at several places earlier in the day, she wanted to continue to protect him, but she also just wanted to be able to watch his reactions to his first encounters with toys. She managed to distract Jack long enough to let him know where they'd be. He nodded, and she and Romeo struck off to explore the store.

He was awestruck by everything he saw, but, curiously, he touched nothing. He clung to Kat's hand and pointed and exclaimed, but made no move to pick anything up or look at anything in more detail. They explored for about a half-hour or so before Kat suggested that they find Jack. Romeo reluctantly agreed. "We can come back again," she promised, "or find another store closer to home."

He brightened at the prospect.

"Did you see anything you'd like to get?"

"Nuh-uh," he shook his head. "I gots no money left," he told her matter-of-factly.

She tugged him to a stop. "Sweetie, if you see something you want, let me know. I'll get it for you."

"Why?"

"Because I'm your mother now, and that's what mothers do."

"Why?"

"It's just one of the many, many ways there is to show you how much I love you."

"You loves me?"

"Of course I do, you silly goose."

He stared at her for a long moment before he beamed and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I don't think no one's ever loved me before, 'cept maybe my first folks, and I don't remember them."

She enveloped him in a bear hug. "I'll love you forever, Romeo," she promised. "In fact," she pulled back to look at him, "you've got a whole houseful of people who'll love you forever."

"Hey! You ain't makin' no moves on my girl, is you?" came Jack's teasing voice.

Romeo jumped back. "Nope. Ma told me she loves me," he announced proudly.

"Of course she does, nitwit," Jack said fondly. "She's your ma. It's what ma's do."

"What about pops?"

Jack ruffled Romeo's hair. "Yeah. I loves ya, too."

Romeo beamed.

"What did you find?" Kat asked Jack, indicating the bag he was holding.

He pulled out a golden brown plush horse with a white star on its nose. "A Palomino. For Crutchie. We used to talk about ridin' 'em when we got to Santa Fe."

Kat smiled as she petted the toy. "It's soft." She looked up at her husband. "We'll make it to Santa Fe one day."

He smiled back at her. "Doncha worry 'bout it none. I done told ya that _you_ is my Santa Fe. 'Tween you and the boys and Kelly House, I's about the happiest guy on earth."

She couldn't resist kissing him just then, so she did.

"Pop?"

"Yeah?" Jack answered, not taking his gaze off Kat.

"Does they gots more animals?"

"What?" Jack pulled Kat close as he shifted his attention to his newly adopted son.

"Does they gots more animals like this? Soft ones?" he held up Crutchie's horse.

"Yeah. They's over there," Jack pointed to a section of plush animals not far behind Romeo.

The boy took off like a flash, an amused set of parents following in his wake.

"Whacha lookin' for, kid?"

"Dunno," Romeo's eyes roamed the shelves and displays of plush animals. "Once, before I got sent to the other house, a girl came to the orphans' home. Her kid brother was always draggin' around a beat-up old dog that was soft and furry like this. His sister said it helped him sleep 'cause it kept away bad dreams. One night he didn't have it and he screamed and screamed. They had to get his sister from the girls' dorm. She found his dog and he slept quiet after that. They was adopted quick, so I never got to really see the dog, but I always wondered if it'd work for me like it did for him."

"Won't hurt to try," Jack encouraged. "Which one ya want?"

"I dunno. Which one is the most fierce? I want one that'll scare the bad dreams away real fast."

"How's about a horse? It could trample the dreams with its hooves."

"Yeah, but there's a lot of room underneath for 'em to get through, too."

Kat covered her mouth to hide a giggle.

Romeo and Jack went through several animal choices, each one playing the role of the animal they'd chosen, resulting in some of the oddest animal battles Kat had ever seen. They had her in stitches, but when the alligator lost the battle to the baby pig, Kat nearly fell down, she was laughing so hard.

Romeo finally found his champion in the tiger, or fire cat, as he dubbed it. "He looks like he's on fire, don't he? So ya better watch out, 'cause if he can't getcha with his claws or his teeth, he'll burn ya with fire!" And he proceeded to attack and annihilate the menagerie of animals Jack found to fight against him.

While they were playing, Kat spoke with a store employee, and when they finally left, they were the proud owners of not only one, but two, plush Palominos, Romeo's tiger, a couple of tiger cubs, and several books and storybooks featuring tigers and other animals. Kat had also ordered a number of other things and paid to have them delivered to Kelly House later that afternoon.

As they left, Romeo wanted to carry all three tigers, but eventually decided the cubs could ride in the bag, that he, of course, held on to, and he'd carry the Fire Cat himself. He was excited about the books, but let Jack carry that bag, sagely suggesting that Jack could put his drawing book in there, too, to keep it safe.

"Good idea, munchkin," Jack agreed, his eyes dancing with merriment and high spirits as he handed Kat the bag with the horses.

Romeo fairly danced out the door, happiness and joy pouring out of him with every step. More than one person stopped to smile as they watched him skip down the sidewalk.

They took a cab to the attorney's office. He wasn't expecting them, so they had to wait a few minutes while he finished what he was working on, but he made time to see them.

"It's unusual for you to come in yourself, Katherine; your father usually handles things for you."

She sensed Jack's tension and placed a calming hand on his arm. "As you may know, I'm married now. This is Jack Kelly, my husband. Jack, this is Adam Franklin, our attorney and my friend."

"Does we gotta have the same one as your father?" Jack ground out.

Before Kat could respond, Adam told him, "I understand your concern, Mr. Kelly. Please be assured that I keep all my clients' cases in strictest confidence. Nothing we discuss here today will be shared with anyone else without your express permission; however, I am well aware that family relationships can be difficult, so if you would be more comfortable with a different attorney, I will be happy to make the arrangements for you."

There was a tense silence as Jack thought things over. "You won't say nothin' to Pulitzer?"

Adam shook his head. "No. I won't."

"He likely won't be happy about that or about why we's here."

"Joseph Pulitzer _is_ a formidable man, but he understands that I cannot share details of your case with him any more than I could discuss my work for him with you."

Jack nodded, satisfied. "You'll send the bill to me?"

"Of course."

"OK, then. I's happy. Kat?"

"Certainly. Adam's good at what he does. I'm happy, too."

"Me, too," piped in Romeo.

Everyone chuckled.

"Who's this?" Adam asked.

"They's my ma and pop," Romeo explained. "But we only just decided, so Jack wants to make sure no one can snatch me away."

"I see," Adam said carefully. "Has he ever been, uh, 'snatched' before?"

Jack and Kat filled in their history, assuring Adam they hadn't kidnapped Romeo.

Romeo listened in for a while, but eventually settled next to Kat's chair and looked through his new books.

When they were done, Adam pondered their story carefully and thoughtfully. "You have an interesting case here. A very interesting case. Quite challenging. It'll be fun to work on it."

"What could be challenging?" Jack asked. "All we wants to do is legally adopt Romeo and however many of the others wants it. Shouldn't be a problem, right? We got the house and plenty of money."

"Yes," Adam drawled, "but that's where the challenge is. You see, by current New York law, males are considered infants until they reach the age of 21, at which time they can vote, own property, and so forth."

"I ain't no infant! I's married, I got a job, and I own a house free and clear."

"Katherine's name is on the deed?"

"Yeah. So?"

"There's the twist. Females are considered infants until they reach the age of 21 _or_ ," he emphasized the word, "they are no longer under their parents' jurisdiction, at which time they are considered adults, with all such rights and privileges."

There was an astonished pause before Kat said, "You've got to be kidding me. That doesn't make any sense."

Jack said, "Damn straight it don't make no sense at all. How's about sayin' it again so's we can understand what you's sayin'."

"The majority of men wait until they're 21 or older to marry, so this isn't typically an issue. But it is not uncommon for men under the age of 21 to marry, and the law does not take that into account.

"What it boils down to is this: Mr. Kelly, you won't be considered an adult until you're 21, despite the fact that you're married, have a job, and a house. New York law defines an adult male as being aged 21, no exceptions.

"Women, on the other hand, are a different matter. An unmarried woman is not considered to be an adult until she turns 21, unless she gets married. Once she is married, she is considered to be an adult, no matter how old she is.

"So, while your name is on the deed to your house, the fact of the matter is that, until you turn 21, the house belongs only to Katherine.

"And that brings me to the challenge of this case. A judge will rarely, very rarely approve an adoption by an unmarried man or woman."

"But we's married."

"Yes, but only adults are legally allowed to adopt."

"And I'm adult, but Jack isn't."

"Precisely," confirmed Adam.

"That don't make no sense," Jack fumed.

"No. It doesn't," agreed Adam. "But I think I can make it work. For Romeo."

"What about the other boys?"

"I think a judge could be convinced to allow you to legally adopt Romeo, given his age and, frankly, your name, Katherine. Your family knows nearly all the judges in town, so they know you. I don't think it would be a hard sell, but I still need to research and get everything lined up to fight any argument.

"But I think your reputation would only lend itself to one adoption, at your age. The others you say are only two to three years younger than you, and there are so many, that I just don't see any judge approving those adoptions. But, again, I'll research to find out."

"What about legal custody or guardianship or whatever else there might be? All we really want is for them to know, without a doubt, that they're safe with us and that no one can dispute that or take them away from us."

"As you've said, it's highly unlikely that would ever happen as they've all been on their own for so long already. But I do understand you need to make things legally binding, not just for them, but for you as well. Should something happen to either of you, you would want them to have legal rights and privileges that they would not have if they were merely boarders in your home, as they are now. I'll explore every option there is to protect your family. I promise. But I cannot make any guarantees one way or another."

"I understand." Kat told him. "Jack?" she prompted when he didn't respond.

"Yeah," he reluctantly ground out. "I gets it, but I don't like it. I knows it ain't you," he assured Adam.

"I don't like it much, either, Mr. Kelly."

"Jack," Jack corrected.

"Thank you. I don't like it either, Jack, but part of my job is figuring out how to turn the parts of the law that don't make sense into something that works. It might not be the best solution, but it will work."

"Like Romeo?"

"Yes. It might be that I can get approval for both of you to be his adoptive parents, but it might be that, for now, Katherine will be his only legal parent."

"That'd work, though, wouldn't it? Keep anyone from snatchin' him away?"

"Yes. Then, when you turn 21, we can resubmit the application to have you both listed as his parents."

"Do whacha gotta do, then," Jack told him.

"I will," Adam promised. "One more word of warning."

Jack tensed. Again.

"I don't think it will be a big deal, but I do need to let you know."

"What? Just spit it out," Jack said impatiently.

"The Sisters' goal is to get the children in their care into loving homes, but both they and the judges tend to look for families of similar ethnic backgrounds as the children."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that typically white people adopt only white children, and so forth."

"Romeo, where was your parents from?"

"New York."

"There. Ya see," Jack said, "they's from the same 'ethic background' as me, 'cause I's from New York, too."

Adam smiled. "I'm afraid it's not quite that simple. Romeo's parents were obviously not Caucasian, as you are. I'm guessing perhaps Latin or Hispanic, maybe Middle Eastern, it's hard to be sure. All I'm trying to say is that, typically, they like to place children in homes of families similar to the children. Romeo's lineage may create an obstacle or raise a few eyebrows."

"So, you's tellin' me that even though they wants him in a lovin' home, and he's got a houseful of people what love him, they might not let us adopt him on account of he don't look like me?"

"I don't mean to upset you, Jack, and it may not happen that way at all. But it could, and I don't want you to be surprised if it does."

"Yeah," Jack grunted. "Ya know, I was a lot happier before we started asking questions."

"I know. But we'll get everything worked out somehow, then you can get back to being happy again, _but_ without the possibility of it all being snatched away lurking in the background."

"I guess," Jack glowered at his toes.

Kat took his hand and pressed her fingers between his. She felt him relax as his fingers spread to accommodate hers, then slowly curled around them, pressing them close. "Jack, Adam's _really_ good at what he does. He'll get it figured out. It sounds like there's a really good chance we'll get to adopt Romeo, so that's one less boy to worry about. The others are basically just like you, orphaned and living on the streets for so long it'd be hard to find you, even if someone tried."

"Yeah," Jack mumbled. A toy tiger cub eased over the arm of Jack's chair. He couldn't help but smile as he took it and rubbed its soft fur. "Come here, kid," he tugged on Romeo's arm to get him to stand, then pulled him into his lap, wrapping his arms protectively around his son. Jack looked at the attorney. "We's family," he told Adam. "Do what ya gotta do to make sure it stays that way."

"I will," Adam vowed. He looked between Jack and Kat. "I'll need to interview the boys to get particulars about their backgrounds to ensure they have no living relations. Would you like to bring them here?"

"It might be easier for you to come to Kelly House," Kat suggested, then added. "What happens if they do have relatives?"

"I'll see if they are willing to give up any rights to the boys. If not, I'll petition the courts. In the event I do find relatives, chances are they won't have the means to support another mouth to feed, so it might not be hard to get them to forego any rights they have or to get the courts to terminate such rights, if they exist, at which point they'll become wards of the state and, therefore, adoptable."

"Poor don't mean stupid," Jack stated.

"What do you mean?"

"They may not need another mouth to feed, but they's gonna figure if we can afford a lawyer diggin' into things, we gots money, so maybe they wants a cut, too."

"Ahh, I see your point. Rest assured, we won't be sending out lawyers in shiny shoes and expensive suits. No, we have a team that specializes in blending in to get what we need and not looking much like lawyers at all."

"OK. Sounds good." Jack looked at Kat, who nodded her agreement.

"Well, I think we're all set then," Adam said. "The sooner we get started, the better, I'm gathering? I'm free on Tuesday evening?"

Jack looked at Kat, who shrugged. "Works for us," he confirmed.

"Plan on eating with us," Kat told him. "Very informal. We'll talk to the boys before you get there, of course, but it'll help if you don't look like a lawyer. Some, well, most of them have bad memories where the law is concerned."

"Ain't that right," Jack muttered under his breath.

Adam nodded. "I understand. Informal dinner, Tuesday night. I must say, I'm looking forward to it. It'll be nice not to be so stiff and trussed up for a night. Not to have to be so careful about what I say."

"Watch what you say around gutter rats and they'll start runnin' the other way," Jack warned.

"Forthright and honest up front, then?"

"If ya can't say what ya want, they figure you's hidin' somethin' and that means a trap, so they's outta there faster than blinkin'."

Adam nodded slowly, mulling over Jack's words of advice. He smiled as he looked at Kat. "Very good advice. It holds true in the upper echelon, too, only too many have gotten trapped because they stuck around to see what would happen instead of getting out of there while they still could."

Kat laughed. "Very true!" She looked at Jack, who was tickling a sleeping Romeo awake. "And now, I think we must head home."

Jack stood Romeo on his feet. The boy yawned and looked at Adam. "Ya got it figured out so's I can't be snatched?"

Adam hunkered down to look Romeo in the eye. "I think so. It'll take some work, but I'm hoping it all turns out the way we want it to."

"The fellas, too?"

"Yes. The fellas, too."

"Good," Romeo nodded his approval.

Kat helped Romeo put everything back in bags while Jack provided their address and phone number so Adam could create a new client file for them.

They took a cab home, but Jack had the driver stop at the end of the block. Kat looked at Jack in question. "We's got company."

She and Romeo looked down the street.

Romeo whistled in admiration. "That's sure a nice carriage. Who's it belong to, I wonder?"

Kat slouched back against the seat. "My father," she said with dread.

"Yeah. That's what I thought," Jack said.

"Why's he here?" Romeo asked.

"My guess is it has something to do with approved guests book at work," Kat explained.

"How'd he know about that?" Jack inquired.

"John is one of his network of spies. He didn't approve of me adding all the boys to our lists today."

"He was a scary man," Romeo confirmed.

Kat hugged him. "Don't you worry yourself about him, or my father, munchkin. You've got Jack and me to protect you."

"I knows. Can I show Greta my Fire Cat now? He's gonna scare her but good!" He giggled in anticipation.

"Yeah," Jack agreed, and Romeo hopped down out of the cab.

"Come get your cubs," Kat told him, handing him his bag. Jack got down, helped Kat get out, then handed her the bags while he paid the driver. As the cab drove off, he took the bags from her and pulled her to his side as they ambled down the alley behind their row of homes. When they got to their kitchen door, Romeo had them stand out of view, then he hunkered down after he knocked. He felt invisible, but his giggling was giving him away. When Greta opened the door, he jumped up with a mighty roar, waving his tiger at her.

She shrieked. "Oh, my stars! A tiger! We'll be eaten up for sure! Oh, my! Help me, help me!" She flapped her dishcloth at it as she was chased around the kitchen table by a roaring-laughing Romeo.

Charles heard the commotion and appeared in the doorway to investigate. He quickly assessed the situation and stepped in to scoop up Romeo, dangling him upside down while tickling his ribs with his free hand. Romeo dissolved into gales of laughter. Annie and the other boys weren't too far behind Charles, and before long, the entire room was overflowing with joy and laughter.

Charles flipped Romeo upright and he sidled up next to Greta. "He ain't really gonna eat ya, Greta, see?"

"Land's sake!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. "You had me frightened for certain!"

"It's my Fire Cat. He's gonna scare away bad dreams."

"Well, I think he'll do a mighty fine job of it, I do say."

"Ma got some books, too," he announced, running to claim the bag from Jack. He spilled the books out onto the kitchen table, and the boys all converged on them, eager to explore the brand-new books.

"Hey, Crutchie!" Jack noticed his friend for the first time. "Look at ya! Sportin' some pretty fancy wheels, ain't ya?" Charles pushed Crutchie away from the melée at the table and closer to Jack, who whistled. "Look at them fancy new boots, too! Kat look at him! All gussied up and ready to dance!"

Crutchie chortled, his famous grin spreading across his face. "I ain't gonna be dancin' no time soon, but the boots do make my legs feel better. They hardly hurt at all now!"

"Hey! That's great! I s'pose you's too fancy now to want this?" Jack help up the plush horse he'd chosen for his friend.

Crutchie's chin dropped in astonishment. "That's for me? A horse?" He reached for it, but didn't touch it, fearing it wasn't real.

"A Palomino," Jack told him, thrusting it into Crutchie's hands as he reached in the bag to pull out the other one. "Got one for me, too. So's we can ride in style, together, just like we always said," he grinned.

"A Palomino," Crutchie whispered, hugging it close. "So's I can ride and no one knows I got a bum leg."

"Yeah, but ya beat me to the punch with your new wheels. Should I take the horse back?"

Crutchie twisted his shoulders to block Jack from taking his horse.

Kat laughed. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Crutchie." She patted his shoulder as she left them to their conversation and joined Greta and Charles on the other side of the kitchen. "Charles, my father–"

"–Is outside. I know. When he heard you were not at home, he opted to remain in his carriage. I believe he is planning to ambush you as you enter the front door upon your return. I do not know the reason for his visit, but given his temper when we spoke, I do not believe it is going to be a pleasant social call."

"I think you're right." She told them about the guest book at the paper.

"I was afraid it would be something unpleasant. I would hate for this evening's mood to be spoiled."

The three of them looked at their family enjoying new books, new toys, and each other. She was sure none of them had ever had the freedom to have such carefree, joyous times, not even Annie, who'd been living under her father's brutal thumb most of her life.

"I don't know about the boys, but Jack, Romeo, and I have had a wonderful day, too. I don't want my father's attitude to spoil that, either. Oh, Charles, what should we do?" Kat wailed quietly.

"I hope I have not been presumptuous, Miss Kat, but I took the liberty of calling your mother. She should arrive shortly."

Kat lightly punched his arm. "Why didn't you say so earlier?" she demanded in relief.

"Why didn't he say what?" Jack asked, pulling Kat back against his chest.

She relaxed against him, taking strength from his touch, resting her arms atop his that were wrapped around her.

"Miss Kat's mother is on her way to assist with Mr. Pulitzer."

"That's a good thing?"

"Yes. Theirs is not an obvious romance, but he will do anything to keep her happy, including not making a scene outside their home."

"Charles, Greta. Once mother arrives, will you keep the boys occupied in here while Jack and I deal with father?"

"Of course, Miss Kat."

Greta nodded her agreement. "There's no end of things to keep them busy in a kitchen," Greta promised.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Jack signaled Charles to stay in the kitchen and he went to answer the door.

"Darling!" Kate Pulitzer breezed into the parlor on a cloud of lightly scented perfume Kat had always loved. She hugged her daughter then held her at arm's length. "Marriage becomes you, my dear," she concluded with a wink and a kiss on her daughter's cheek. "Now, where's my handsome son-in-law?" She crossed the room to embrace a bemused Jack before leading him to the sitting area where she took over as hostess and directed everyone where to sit: Kat and her father on a couch, Jack and herself in chairs across from them.

Pulitzer placed the book he'd been carrying on the low table in front of him. "We all know why we're here," he began.

"How could that be, my dear?" Kate asked. "Katherine couldn't have known we were coming as we didn't know ourselves. We decided to drop by unannounced since we were nearby."

"That explains her sneaking in the back door, then?"

"Joseph," Kate admonished, "she owns the house. She may enter her home through whichever door she wishes."

"If you wasn't waitin' out front for us, how'd you know what door we used?" Jack asked Pulitzer.

Pulitzer growled and stood, glaring at Jack before pacing the room.

"Katherine, is your housekeeper going to bring tea?" Kate asked.

"Uh, probably not, mother. She's busy at the moment, and I didn't think to ask her to prepare any."

"Busy? What could she possibly be doing that is more important than attending to your guests?"

"Ummm..." Kat looked to Jack for help.

Jack was drawing a blank, himself.

"Hah!" Pulitzer crowed. "I know what she's doing!"

His wife turned puzzled eyes to him. "How could you possibly know what Katherine's housekeeper is doing?"

He flipped through the book to Kat's page. "She probably watching our daughter's 'children'." He turned the book so Kate could read it.

"Katherine's what?" Kate scanned the list then looked to her daughter for clarification.

Kat looked at Jack again.

He gestured that she should tell the story.

She gestured back that she wanted him to sit beside her.

With a grin, he happily accommodated her request, draping his arm over her shoulders and kissing her temple.

Pulitzer growled.

"Stow it, Joe," Jack commanded. "She's my wife, it's my home, and those kids back there are _not_ gonna know you's out to ruin a good day. Got it?" He glared at his father-in-law.

"Joseph, please sit still and calm down. Jack is right, and I'd like to know more." Kate looked at the couple on the couch. "How did this many children come to be listed as your sons?" Her question was filled with curiosity, not malice, so Kat relaxed and leaned against Jack. Together they shared the story of how the newsies had come to be part of their family.

When they were done, Kate wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "My dears, that is a beautiful story. I simply love it! But are you sure you're ready for such an undertaking? You're so young yourselves, and still newly wedded."

Jack tensed.

"Jack, it's a valid question." Kat squeezed his hand. "Mother, as illogical as it may seem, it's been better for us since the boys moved in because now we don't have to worry about them quite so much. And they have much more promising futures, too. They're really all old enough to care for themselves, as they've been doing it for years, but it was such an uncertain, hand-to-mouth existence. We want to show them there's more to life than just scraping by."

"And I suppose you'll be giving them money?" Pulitzer growled.

"Maybe," Kat told him, "but if we do, it'll be _our_ choice, because it's _our_ money, and we can do what we want with it."

"And what happens if you have children of your own?" Pulitzer snarled.

"Whaddaya mean?" Jack snarled back.

"Are you going to take money from your own children and give it to a bunch of freeloading gutter rats?"

"Joseph!" Kate exclaimed in shock.

"Jack, sit down!" Kat stood and pushed on her husband's shoulders until he sat. She turned and addressed her father. "What we choose to do with _our_ money is _our_ business, but I assure you those boys," she pointed in the direction of the kitchen, "are as much a part of our family as anyone could possibly be. Any children that Jack and I have together will be entering a family already filled with big brothers and uncles, so there won't be any animosity about who gets how much. You know why? Because in this house _it's not about the money_!" Jack's hand squeezing hers made her realize how loud she'd gotten and she took a deep breath to try to calm down.

"Ma?" squeaked a small voice.

Kat's face exploded into a grin as she saw Romeo hovering hesitantly in the doorway. She held out her arms and he ran into them. She felt the tension leave her as his arms wrapped around her waist. Jack tugged on her arm and she sat back down, pulling Romeo onto her lap. "Mother, Father, this is Romeo."

"Hello, Romeo," Kate said politely, raising her eyes to her daughter's. "He called you 'ma'?"

"Yeah," Jack leaned forward, pulling Kat and Romeo closer. "We's tryin' to adopt him, legal-like."

Pulitzer began coughing.

Jack watched him with a satisfied glare.

"Adopt him?" Kate asked.

"Yes," Kat confirmed. "Adam Franklin seems to think it won't be a problem."

"You've spoken to Franklin about this?" Pulitzer snapped.

"Yeah, we did. What of it, Joe?" Jack snapped back.

Kat and her mother ignored the men. "Romeo is the youngest of the newsies who've come to live with us, and the most vulnerable. Adam thought it'd be best to start there, then work on the others to see what options are available, since they're so much older."

"I see," Kate responded slowly, her eyes focusing on Romeo, who was watching her.

"Ma?" Romeo half-whispered. "Who's they?"

"They're my parents. My mother and father."

"I thought your father was Pulitzer."

"He is."

" _He's_ Pulitzer?" Romeo pointed at Kat's father, his eyes widened in amazement. "The newspaper guy we striked against?"

Kat smiled. "That's him."

Romeo stared at Pulitzer for a long moment. Pulitzer glared back. "He don't look evil, just angry 'bout somethin'."

All the adults, except Pulitzer, burst into laughter. Pulitzer walked to the window as Kate told Romeo, "You are a very astute child."

"Is that a good thing?"

Kate nodded. "It is. It means you are good at making observations."

"Oh." He tilted his head. "Does you wanna see my Fire Cat?"

Surprised, she said, "Um, yes, I suppose so."

He hopped down off Kat's lap and plunked his tiger into Kate's. "Don't it look like he's made of fire? Ma and pop got him for me to scare away bad dreams. They gots me two cubs, too, but they's still in the kitchen..."

Kat curled into Jack's side and let Romeo's non-stop chatter work its magic. When he finally stopped to take a breath, Kat softly played her trump card. "Just think, mother, if we can successfully adopt Romeo, you'll have a grandchild."

Kate was stunned speechless.

"No!" shouted Pulitzer. "I forbid it!"

No one paid him any attention.

"A grandchild?" Kate repeated in awe. She looked down into Romeo's sweet face. "A grandchild," she caressed his cheek. "Dearest, you may call me Nana Kate," she told him, pulling him onto her lap for a big hug.

"You's my grandma now?"

"I am."

"Does that mean he's my grandpa?" Romeo pointed at Pulitzer, not certain being related to him was such a good idea.

"Well, right now he's just a growling bear with a bad attitude, but one day he might be your grandfather," Nana Kate told him.

Romeo giggled at her description of her husband, the infamous Pulitzer. "Nana Kate?"

"Yes?"

"You smell real good."

"Thank you."

"Does ya wanna meet Greta and Charles?"

"I already know Charles, but I'd love to meet Greta."

"How's you know Charles?"

"He used to live at my house until he came to live here, with Kat, your mother."

"Oh. Well, you could meet the fellas, too. We's makin' cookies. Even Crutchie. You could help."

"I'd love to." She shot an amazed look at Kat as Romeo took her hand and led her out of the room, chattering all the way.

Jack and Kat watched them leave, then Jack turned to Kat. "You are one amazin' woman, ya knows that?"

She just grinned and pulled his head down for a kiss.

"Oh, give it a rest," Pulitzer griped.

Jack was slow to break the kiss and slower still to cut off eye contact with his wife. "Joe," he finally said, tucking Kat into his side. "You ain't gonna tell me I can't kiss my wife in my own home." He led Kat to the door.

"You're just going to leave?"

"Why not? All the fun's in the kitchen."

"That's hardly polite."

"Neither is comin' here threatenin' to break up my family simply 'cause you don't like it. Right now, you's just a, how'd she say it, 'a growly bear with a bad attitude,' and who wants to be around that?

"We's goin' to the kitchen to make us some cookies. You got three choices: one, you can leave; two, you can stay here and growl some more all by yourself; or three, you can come to the kitchen and join the fun. Just know this: if you join _my family_ , you _will_ be nice and you _will_ hold your tongue or I _will_ toss you out on your ear without thinkin' twice about it. No one, and I mean _no one_ , threatens my family and gets away with it." And on that note, he and Kat left, leaving Growly Bear Pulitzer alone in the parlor.


	13. Chapter 13: A Perfect Day

Pulitzer stared at the empty doorway in disbelief. His daughter and her husband had just walked out on him! No one walked out on him! He was Joseph Pulitzer, one of the most powerful men in New York, if not _the_ most powerful and well-respected. And they had just walked out! He'd raised his daughter better than that!

Well, he conceded, to her he was just "Father," not Joseph Pulitzer, newspaper tycoon. And, truth be told, except for one small window of time during the strike, Jack Kelly had never really been intimidated by the mighty Joseph Pulitzer; indignant, insolent, and irritating, perhaps, but never intimidated. He admired that about his daughter's husband. He'd never admit it aloud, even to himself, but there was actually a lot to admire about Jack Kelly, when he wasn't being so impressively rude, that is.

Pulitzer gazed out the window reviewing the afternoon in his mind. How had the situation slipped from his control? He'd had it all planned; come to his daughter's home to expose her "sons" as the swindlers and cheats that they were. Only she hadn't been home when he'd arrived. He'd opted to await her return in his carriage, being more comfortable in its familiar close confines than in her spacious parlor. The longer he'd waited, the stronger his fury grew. She'd left work around noon; it was nearly five o'clock, where could she possibly be?

And then his wife was there, climbing into the carriage, taking him completely by surprise. She looked at him for several very long, very silent minutes before she said simply, "Behave yourself." Then she indicated that he should get out and help her down, as was proper.

From that moment forward, nothing had gone as he'd planned. He'd been yelled at by his daughter, threatened by her husband, and ignored by his wife as an impertinent urchin conned her into thinking she was his grandmother. Well, he refused to fall prey to that game. He would never consent to being that child's grandfather. No. He was not so weak or simple-minded as to fall prey to the games of a conniving child. Not that his wife was weak; she was actually quite strong. Stubborn, actually. Once she believed something, it was quite difficult to dissuade her from her position. It was hard to admit, but she was usually right, too. But not this time. Somehow, despite her strength and intelligence, she had fallen into the trap set for her by that child and he would never do the same.

He was mulling over all the possible reasons his wife and daughter could have been duped into the game those gutter snipes were playing when he noticed a delivery wagon pull to a stop behind his carriage. The driver began unloading the wagon onto the sidewalk while his companion consulted a paper on a clipboard and headed toward the house. Curious, Pulitzer met him at the door, opening it before he could knock or ring the bell.

"Good day, sir!" the jovial driver greeted him. "Alexander Wooten of Wooten's Toys here with your order. Should we bring everything inside?"

"Toys? Are you certain? I've never heard of you. There must be some mistake."

Mr. Wooten looked uncertain. "Invoice lists this address, sir," he handed Pulitzer the clipboard with invoice on it. "See, here, sir, delivery today for a Mrs. Jack Kelly to this address. Ya want we should leave 'em on the steps or bring 'em in?" He waited expectantly as the gentleman flipped through the pages of the invoice.

"Ridiculous!" he declared. "Why does she need so many toys? It doesn't make sense. You'll just have to take them all back."

The store owner looked mildly panicked at the gentleman's words. It was the biggest order his toy store had ever had and he didn't want to have to take any of it back.

"Mr. Wooten? Oh, good, you're here," a feminine voice sounded down the hall. It was followed by the pretty young lady he'd met at his store hurrying to the door. She excitedly peered into the bag at his feet. "Oh, this is perfect! Just perfect!" she exclaimed. "Would you mind terribly much bringing them into the parlor? Just anywhere would be fine," she indicated the room where they should place the items. While they were working, she took the clipboard from her father and did a cursory check of what was listed against what she saw in the boxes and bags. "Gentlemen, everything seems to be in order." She signed the invoice. "If you'll wait here a moment..." she scurried out of the room, returning a minute or two later, another man trailing behind her.

"Howdy, gents," he greeted them, nibbling on a cookie. "What'd ya bring?" He peered into the box on the coffee table and looked around at the number of bags and boxes. He whistled in amazement. "Kat, did ya buy the whole store?" He grinned at her as he took another bite of his cookie.

"Jack, shut up and give them their tip," she instructed with a happy smile.

He complied, popping the last bite of his cookie into his mouth as he pulled out his wallet. He gave them each a dollar and they thanked him profusely for such a generous tip. Kat gave them each a couple of freshly-baked cookies wrapped in paper, thanking them again for making a last-minute delivery this afternoon.

"Any time, ma'am," they assured her. "No problem."

She walked them out, then raced back to the parlor as soon as she shut the door, calling over her shoulder, "Father, come look at what we got!"

Pulitzer slowly moved to stand in the doorway, watching his daughter and Jack pulling toys, books, and games from the boxes and bags.

"Kat, Kat, Kat," Jack mused in wonder, peeking in another bag. "What did you do? I told ya not to buy everything today," he chuckled. "You's gonna have 'em spoiled rotten before the week's out."

Kat was practically dancing with glee. "I know it's probably too much, but you and Romeo were having so much fun, and we don't have anything here yet, and I just couldn't resist," she explained. "And I didn't buy the whole store."

He snagged her around the waist and twirled her around.

She laughed in delight.

As they slowed, he pulled her close and kissed her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck to lengthen their kiss. "Mmmm," she hummed against his mouth. "You taste like cookies."

He chuckled and kissed her again, oblivious to her father watching them or that her mother was now at Pulitzer's side.

Kat's parents watched the happy couple for a minute before Kate remarked softly, "Our daughter found a good man, didn't she?" She took a step closer to her husband and he settled his hand on her waist.

"Mmm," he responded noncommittally.

Kate lightly swatted his chest. "Don't be such a grump," she chided. "She married for love. What better reason is there?" She looked up at him, eyes twinkling, daring him to contradict her.

He said nothing, merely pulled her closer, but she felt the starchy indignation leave him. She laughed softly, the sound soothing his troubled soul, and kissed him just beneath his ear. He looked down at her and his breath caught. Her face, that beautiful face – hint of a smile, sparkling eyes looking at him with such adoration and love – how did he ever get so lucky that he got to look upon that face every day? He pulled her around into a full embrace, never breaking eye contact. "I don't deserve you," he admitted in a whisper.

She caressed his face. "I know," she whispered back, "now, kiss me."

He brought his hands up to frame her face, his eyes memorizing the features in this face he'd loved for so many years. He slowly lowered his head to meet hers, their kiss achingly tender and sweet and filled with promises of love. They gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment after their kiss ended – the look more intimate than their kiss had been – before he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms snugly around her.

The sound of someone softly clearing his throat broke their reverie. Kate turned in her husband's arms and they looked at a beaming couple watching them.

"So, Joe," Jack began with a satisfied smile, squeezing Kat close, "looks like we found good women to love, eh?"

Pulitzer's wife and daughter looked at him expectantly. He actually felt himself blush, unaccustomed as he was at displaying his affection for his wife so openly. And, as much as it pained him to actually agree with the young upstart his daughter had married, he cleared his throat and mumbled, "Uh, yes. Certainly."

Kate chuckled, pressed another quick kiss on her favorite spot just below his ear, then joined her daughter at the piles of toys in the parlor, arranging them in attractive groups around the room. "Darling, I came to tell you that the cookies are done and they're almost done tidying up the kitchen. That Greta is a marvel, I tell you. It's amazing to see her get those boys doing what needs to be done without sounding bossy or impatient. And they wouldn't let me help, either; something about nickels, whatever that means. So, I came to say thank you for a most delightful afternoon. It's the most fun I've had in a long time. The boys are an absolute delight, but I think your father and I should be going."

"Oh, mother, must you? I want to give the boys their things now, and it would be so much fun for you to be here, too. None of them have ever had their own toys before, and, well," she gestured to the piles before them, "maybe I went a little overboard, but we've nothing here for them, and I just couldn't resist."

"Never owned a toy?" Kate was incredulous. "How can that be?"

"They were either orphaned and living on the streets at a very early age, or lived in homes where every penny was needed for essentials, not toys."

"Oh, my, how awful! Dearest," Kate looked at her husband, "you don't mind staying a little longer, do you?"

"Please, father?"

Pulitzer glanced at Jack, who simply grinned at him and shrugged. He sighed and crossed the room to sit in a tall arm chair near the fire.

"Thank you," Kate smiled at her husband.

He nodded, resigned.

Kate and Kat finished unpacking and arranging the toys in fun groups, with occasional not-very-helpful tips from Jack, who was having as much fun at exploring several of them as watching the ladies get them ready for the kids.

"Ma? Nana Kate – woh!" Romeo's inquiry was abruptly cut off as he took in the treasures spread around the room.

Kate laughed. "I guess that answers the question of how we'll get the children in here, doesn't it?" She held her arms out and Romeo edged around the overloaded coffee table to her embrace.

"What's those?" he asked her.

"They're presents."

"I gave Jack a present today," he told her.

"Did you? That was a nice thing to do."

He nodded. "Um, who they's for?" he indicated the table.

"For you and the fellas and Annie."

"For me?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"When can I look at 'em?"

"Just as soon as all the others get here."

"When'll that be?"

"Just as soon as you can get them here."

He was out the doorway in a flash. "Race! Specs! Albert! C'mon you guys! Nana Kate brung us a toy store!"

The group left in the parlor laughed; even Pulitzer cracked a smile, though he tried to hide it. Kate perched on the arm of his chair. He draped an arm around her waist. She kissed the top of his head.

Kat moved into Jack's arms. "I know it looks like a lot, but, really, with six kids–"

"Eight."

She looked up at him.

"No one's said anythin' yet, but I's thinkin' Elmer and Finch is joinin' the family."

Kat's eyes immediately teared up.

Jack wiped away an errant tear with his thumb. "Let me guess. Happiness overflowin'?"

She nodded, grinning.

His eyes were glassy, too, as he pulled her into a tight hug. "How did I ever get so lucky that you'd be happier with seven boys than with five?" he whispered in her ear.

"They're your family. How could I not be happy they're with us?"

He squeezed her tighter and she heard him sniffling. She pulled back a bit and smiled as she wiped at a little wetness around his eyes.

"Hey, now stop it already, you two!" Race complained loudly, his grin negating his objections. He rolled his eyes at Nana Kate. "Seriously, they're always kissin' and huggin' and lookin' at each other like that," he told her. "It'd be sickenin' if it wasn't so sweet." He laughed as he dodged Jack, who took off after him.

After a brief chase, Jack caught Race by the neck and knuckle-rubbed his head. "That'll teach ya," he told a laughing Race.

"Teach me what?" Race asked impishly, looking around for his cigar.

"Dunno." Jack scooped up the cigar and handed it to Race. "When you think of somethin', let me know."

Race laughed and lightly punched Jack's arm as he turned his attention to the activity in the room. "What's goin' on here?"

"Kat got some stuff for ya's."

"Oh, yeah?" His curiosity piqued, he popped the cigar into his mouth and joined the others in investigating the new treasures.

"You let a child smoke cigars?" Pulitzer said, perhaps a bit louder than was necessary.

The room got quiet. Jack shrugged. "He's Race. He has cigars." He thought a moment. "Has ya ever smoked one, Race?"

"Once or twice. They's too expensive to actually smoke and they makes me cough. Mostly I just likes how they smell."

Jack shrugged again as both he and Race dropped the topic and returned to more interesting matters, namely the things that Kat had purchased.

As the kids had come into the parlor, it hadn't taken much more than a blink before they'd overcome their disbelief and easily caught Romeo's excitement at the wealth of goodies before them. It took only moments for the attractive groups that Kat and her mother had arranged to disappear as each item was discovered, exclaimed over, and shared.

Pulitzer attempted to watch the scene impassively, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. The reactions of the children in front of him were not calculating and impersonal, unless they were exceptional actors. No. They seemed genuinely surprised at the gifts and, for the most part, unaware of what the toys were or how they were to be used. He figured such reactions could be faked for the first few minutes, but eventually it would wear off. For these boys, every toy was a new discovery, each with its own set of questions.

After the first few minutes, Pulitzer's old friend, Charles, entered the room pushing a wheel chair occupied by a young man who appeared to have two broken legs. With them were a woman he assumed to be the marvelous Greta, a young girl, and, "A negro boy?" he blurted quietly in surprise.

Three pairs of eyes suddenly pinned him.

"Don't you dare go there, Joseph," Kate reprimanded him coldly, "or we will have a nice long discussion about how a Confederate Episcopalian should never have been permitted to marry a Jew who fought for the Union."

"I'm sorry, my dear. I meant nothing by it. I was merely surprised, is all."

Kate stared impassively at her husband for a long, silent minute. "It is not I to whom you should apologize," she told him softly. She stood and went to show Albert and Finch how to play Checkers.

As Pulitzer watched his wife leave, he felt cast adrift. He looked at Katherine, his daughter, hating the hurt look in her eyes. Jack was upset with him, but, he sensed, not angry, though it wouldn't take much to cross that threshold.

"Don't matter what color they is, Joe. Kids gotta eat."

"Yes. I know."

"And we's family, no matter what any of us looks like."

"I am beginning to realize that," Pulitzer admitted. "And, again, I meant no insult or inference. I was merely surprised."

Jack looked at Pulitzer for a long moment, then nodded. "Yeah. I can see as how it might be unexpected."

Pulitzer didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until he released it.

"Just remember what I said before, Joe. I meant every word. And not just for today."

Pulitzer nodded, his mind searching for a way to assure his daughter and Jack that he honestly had only been making an observation, and had meant nothing more than that by the words he had unintentionally said aloud. Then he remembered something from just over a year ago. He stood, spit into his palm, and held that hand out to Jack. "I assure you, I meant no disrespect, and shall endeavor to remember your words and respect your family."

Jack took Pulitzer's measure before spitting into his own palm and accepting Pulitzer's handshake. "You's OK, Joe," he conceded cautiously. "I ain't sure I like ya yet, but you's OK."

"Thank you."

Kat threw her arms around her father's neck. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear.

He hugged her back, but said nothing.

There was an added sense of relief in the room after that. They had all been aware of Pulitzer's presence in the room and perceived his unpleasant attitude, but had largely ignored him. Everyone had observed the interaction between him and Jack, and, while no one said anything about it, they all realized a corner had been turned. Pulitzer may not yet be a part of the family, but neither was he an outsider any longer. They were all able to breathe a little easier, relax a little more, and give more attention to the fun in the room without wondering if it was going to be taken away.

Pulitzer now watched the scene before him with a little more interest. He had hoped to be able to talk with his friend, but Charles was deep into a rousing game of Parcheesi with three of the boys and seemed to be having a marvelous time.

Jack, the kid with the cigar, and the boy in the wheel chair were working on something, but Pulitzer couldn't tell what. There had been a brief moment of contention when they had begun disassembling one of the side tables.

Kat had objected. "Don't take my furniture apart! What are you thinking?"

"We wants to put this together," Race explained, "but there ain't a table for Crutchie in here."

"Calm down, Kat. Race can put it back together when we's done," Jack said distractedly, pointing out a detail on the box to Crutchie.

Kat had looked at Race in mock anger for about six seconds before giving in to laughter. "All right," she conceded, patting him on the shoulder. "Just see it gets put back together tonight."

"Ya got it, Mare," he promised, kissing her cheek.

"Why doncha get Davey's dad to build Crutchie a table for his chair?" Finch suggested.

"That's a great idea!" Kat praised. "Why don't you call them and see if they can come over? Then call Jacobi and see if he'll deliver dinner for, oh, however many people are here right now plus the _s."

"Me? Use the phone? Really?"

"Have you used a phone before?"

"No. Is it hard?"

"Not at all. Just pick up the ear piece and tell the person on the other end the number you want to be connected to. That's all there is to it. There's a list of numbers we use most often next to the phone."

"Alright! Come on, Albert!" They scurried down the hall to Jack's study to make their important calls.

Kat's mother looked up from the book she was reading with Romeo. "Dearest, shouldn't you clear tonight's menu with Greta?"

"She won't mind."

"Are you certain? You know how Philippe gets when we make last minute changes on him."

"Philippe is an overbearing cad with a fake French accent and an overblown opinion of himself."

"True," Kate agreed, "but he is an excellent cook."

"So is Greta. And she's not uppity about it."

"Still, shouldn't she know you've made alternate dinner plans?"

Seeing her mother was worrying over nothing, Kat relented. "Greta," she called loudly over the general hubbub in the room.

"What?" Greta looked up from the book of doll clothes patterns she and Annie were looking at.

"I'm having Jacobi bring us something to eat tonight. Is that OK with you?"

"Fine. I haven't started dinner yet. I'll use tonight's menu for tomorrow." She returned to the book of patterns.

"There you go, mother. Greta knows."

"Incredible. How did you learn to be so informal?"

"Just lucky, I guess," Kat surmised with a grin. She looked down at Romeo. "Hey there, kiddo," she ruffled his hair, "whacha got there?"

He held up a book, _The Reluctant Dragon_. "Me and Nana Kate's readin' it."

"Ooh, looks like a good one. You'll have to tell me about it later." She left him in her mother's capable hands and went to see what Specs and Elmer were discussing.

"Hey, Mare," Specs said.

"What did you find?" she asked.

He showed her the box. "Me and Elmer was wantin' to try checkers, so we got this box."

"Yeah," Elmer added. "It gots a checker board on the front, but it ain't got no checkers inside. Just all these funny pieces."

"Albert and Finch only gots flat pieces," Specs observed. "How d'ya play checkers with a horse and a castle and whatever these other things is?" he asked in mild frustration.

"Gentlemen, you have stumbled upon the game of kings." She wrinkled her brow and tilted her head in thought. "Or is that horse racing?" she wondered idly. She shook her head and looked back at the boys. "Whatever kings may or may not like, this game, Chess, is definitely the game of really smart fellas."

"Oh," Elmer's voice was flat. "Maybe we shouldn't play."

"Why not?" Kat asked him.

"I ain't never been to school," Elmer told her.

"Well, there's more than one way to be smart," Kat insisted, "and I happen to think you are definitely smart."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Kat tweaked his nose. "Chess is not so much about the book learning kind of smart, but about planning, strategy, and patience, all of which you've developed living on the street and being newsies."

"Really?" both boys asked.

"Really," Kat confirmed.

"Can ya show us how to play?"

"Well," she hedged, "I'm actually pretty awful at it. I can show you how the pieces move, but I wouldn't be able to teach you anything about why or when you should move which piece. I usually get bored and end up jumping the pieces like checkers. It drives my friend Darcy crazy."

"So we can't play?"

"I am not the only person in this room who knows anything about chess. You just have to decide how much you want to know. If all you want is basic rules and how to move the pieces, then I can do that. But if you really want to learn to play chess as it is meant to be played, you need a really good teacher."

"Who?" "Will he teach us?" The boys' words tumbled over each other.

"If you ask nicely, he just might."

"Who?" Specs asked again with a touch of impatience. She had him intrigued about this game called chess. He nearly choked on his tongue when she pointed to her father. "Pulitzer? You wants me to ask him to teach me chess?"

"No. I've told you how I can help. Or you can try and decipher the directions included in the box. Or, you can get an expert at the game to explain how to play. It's completely up to you." She smiled, patted their shoulders, and went to see what new things Greta and Annie had found.

The two boys watched her leave, then looked at each other in question, not quite sure what to do. Specs picked up the instructions and ended up wrinkling his brow at them. He pointed to one of the pictures in them and asked Elmer, "What's that mean?"

Elmer shrugged. "How should I know?" He looked closer and asked Specs, "What's all them arrows for?"

"I don't know," Specs huffed and slapped the paper down on the table in frustration.

"Ya thinks we should give it up?" Elmer asked him, picking up one of the horse pieces. "Kat said as how it was a game for smart folks." He picked up a castle. "Sure would be nice to be smart."

"You _is_ smart. So'm I. Kat said so," Specs reminded him.

"We could just ask Kat?" Elmer offered.

"Nah. She done said she can only move the pieces around."

"That's somethin', ain't it?"

"Not really. That's like a newsie buying papes to sell, then standin' on the corner hopin' people'll buy 'em."

"That won't do no good! Ya gotta read the headlines and tell people why they _wants_ to buy a pape."

"Yeah. Like Jack showed us," Specs said, glancing between Jack and Pulitzer. He took a fortifying breath. "Looks like Pulitzer's gonna be our Jack this time, if we wants to play chess."

Elmer gulped. "Ya sure?"

Specs nodded slowly, not really certain at all.

"Well, OK. But you goes first."

* * *

Pulitzer had been watching both his daughter and his wife interact with these children. Though she'd grown up with all these toys and games, his daughter moved from child to child, marveling at each new discovery, patiently answering all questions, providing demonstrations, or examining whatever-it-was in more detail. Every boy, and the girl, and even her husband glowed at her attention. She chatted, laughed, listened, and explained, always with complete focus on the person involved, and always with a loving touch – her hand on a shoulder, a quick hug, ruffling of hair. He began to see that she really did love these street urchins she'd taken in off the streets. They, too, it seemed, loved her just as much in return. Truth be told, she reminded him very much of her mother.

His attention shifted to his wife. She, too, had the gift of making people feel at ease around her. Admittedly, she was as stubborn as the day was long but she loved fiercely and unwaveringly, for which he was eternally grateful, for he knew he was not an easy man to love. Her attention was being monopolized by the youngest of the ragged lot, but the child had captured his wife's heart, so Pulitzer knew he must eventually figure out a way to accept this "grandchild" one way or another.

His reverie was interrupted by the hiss of a boy whispering, "Go on, Specs. Ask him."

Pulitzer looked up to see one of the boys hiding behind another, the one in front obviously working up the courage to speak to him, but not without first jabbing the boy behind him with his elbow. "Cut it out, will ya? I's gonna ask him."

Pulitzer hid his amusement. "Is there something I can help you with?" he inquired.

"Uh. Yeah? Leastaways Mare, uh, Kat, said so."

"Specs, is it?" Pulitzer clarified.

Specs nodded.

"Alright, Specs. Tell me, what it is that my daughter said I might be able to assist you with?"

"Ummm, Chase?"

"I beg your pardon."

"Chess. I means chess," Specs held up the box. "Me and Elmer thought it was checkers like Albert and Finch was playin', but it ain't. So Kat said to ask you 'cause she ain't good at it, but you is, and that we's smart enough to play."

Pulitzer felt rather than saw five pairs of eyes silently watching him. Fully aware that the people behind those eyes were ready to jump to defend these boys from him, if necessary, he regarded them for a moment before he said, "Gentlemen, it seems my daughter is right on three counts: one, I am quite skilled at chess; two, she, I am sorry to report, is indeed rather bad at it; and three, if you feel you are smart enough to play chess, then you are. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. You have both shown you have the temperament to play chess as well."

"What's that mean?" Specs asked suspiciously.

"Chess requires planning, strategy, forethought, and even bravery. You have shown you possess all those traits, so I imagine you will have no difficulty mastering chess."

"Bravery?"

"Yes. Sometimes you must give up something valuable in order to gain the ultimate prize. Just now, you summoned the courage to ask someone you see as your enemy to give you something you want. That, in itself, is a very chess-like maneuver."

Elmer jabbed Specs in his back and whispered loudly, "What's he mean? Is he gonna teach us?"

Specs slapped at Elmer. "Cut it out," he griped, then looked at Pulitzer. "So, is ya gonna teach us?"

Pulitzer's lips hinted at a smile. He didn't quite understand why his daughter was so taken with these urchins, but they did have a sort of coarse charm about them. "It would be my pleasure," he told them. "If we can relocate to the window, I believe there will be room enough for us all at the table that is still in one piece."

* * *

That evening, in the relaxed afterglow of the day's excitement, Jack sat alone by the fire, trying desperately to draw images as fast as his brain recalled them. They were sketches really, but would be sufficient for him to fill in details later. There were just so many things about today he never wanted to forget: Kat and Romeo in the park and at the toy store, baking cookies, the piles of gifts from Kat, Crutchie in his wheel chair, Pulitzer playing chess with Specs and Elmer, and about a hundred more. What had begun as a fairly ordinary day was ending on a sublimely perfect note.

A Perfect Day. That's how he would always remember today.

He scanned the room. The boys had broken off into small groups, talking and laughing together, playing the games they liked best. Albert, Elmer, and Finch were playing yet another round of Parcheesi with Davey, who had stayed after his parents and brother had left. He'd probably spend the night again. Jack quickly captured their images. Elmer and Finch had become a large part of the perfect day when they had decided to join the family. Kat had surprised them both when she'd hugged them before they could finish asking if they could stay.

"Don't cry, Kat," Elmer had fretted. "We won't stay if ya don't want us to."

"They's happy tears," Jack explained with a grin. "She's happy you two's stayin."

"Huh?"

"She cries when she's sad _and_ when she's happy."

"That don't make no sense."

"Yeah. But that's how it is," Jack pulled her into his arms. "It's up to you to figure out which is which if you's the cause of 'em." He kissed her temple. "You two got things squared away with Greta and Charles?"

They nodded.

"Got your rooms?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now get outta here so's I can kiss my wife." He smiled at them. As they turned away, he said quietly, "Thanks, guys."

They turned back, smiled and nodded, then went to explore more of the treasures Kat had brought them all.

He'd kissed Kat then, not only because he'd said he would, but also because he liked kissing her, so he kissed her whenever he could. Good thing she liked it or he'd be in trouble. He chuckled to himself as he finished his sketch.

He looked over at Race and Specs, who were playing checkers, sort of. They were using tin soldiers instead of checkers, and had added a deck of cards and some dice to the game they had devised. Whatever it was, they were having a great time. Jack added them to his book.

His attention then turned to Crutchie, who was learning to play chess with Kat's best friend, Darcy, who had dropped in after work and stayed for supper. Crutchie, normally timid around strangers, had taken to Darcy right away and had been – for Crutchie, at least – a chatterbox all evening. Between moves, Crutchie seemed to be describing the table top that Davey's father, a master carpenter, would be designing for him. Jack smiled as he drew _Kat's_ best friend playing chess with _his_ best friend, plaster-encased legs propped up on the wheelchair supports, _his_ horse tucked in by his side, and _Jack's_ horse secured to the chair back and peering over Crutchie's shoulder.

As he finished that sketch, he looked across the room to where Greta and Charles were chatting with Kat, Annie sitting between them. Annie wasn't sleeping yet, but she wasn't far from it by the looks of things. She was looking at a book but not turning any pages and it looked ready to fall to the floor. The amazing thing Jack wanted to capture was the way she was bonelessly leaning into Charles, allowing his arm to hold her against his side. After the abuse she'd endured at her father's hands, Annie had been skittish around men for a long time. Jack was glad that living at Kelly House, where everyone was treated with respect no matter who they were, had helped her overcome most of her fears.

When that drawing was done, Jack finally allowed himself to gaze upon his wife. Kat. His Kat. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of her. Even though they were married and together every morning and night, he still marveled that of everyone she could have chosen, she was here, with him. He wondered if he would ever stop wondering why. He thought probably not. He drew her as she sat there, chatting with their friends. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could tell she was happy. Their eyes met for a moment and his heart sped up as she smiled that special smile she shared only with him. He continued to watch her even after her attention returned to the conversation.

His heart lurched again as she looked down at her lap. Romeo was next to her on the couch, sound asleep, curled around his fire cat, his head in her lap. She was absently combing his hair with her fingers. He must've moved or made a sound or something because she got still and leaned closer to him, probably telling him he was safe, as she told them all each night. Satisfied he was resting well once more, she straightened and said something to Charles. Jack sketched the image of her and Romeo, his son.

His son. He was more than a brother, now. More than a best friend, protector, even husband. He didn't think he could be prouder or more frightened if Romeo was a newly born infant. Who would ever have guessed the scamp he'd rescued from the likes of Tippy Mac all that time ago would want him for a father? He supposed, if he thought about it, that it wasn't too far-fetched an idea; Romeo'd been following him around like a puppy ever since then. But Jack had never minded. There'd always been something about Romeo that, like Crutchie, had brought out stronger than normal protective instincts in him. And if he, like Crutchie, preferred to stay close to Jack, then Jack didn't have to wonder where they were and worry if they were OK. But, still, he'd never figured on wanting to adopt the kid. He smiled. Romeo did have a way about him, so he guessed he shouldn't be surprised.

Suddenly, being across the room from them was much too far away. He shut his book and moved to the couch to sit beside Kat, angling himself so she could lean back against him. He wrapped his arms around her, resting a hand on Romeo's shoulder. Kat sighed in contentment.

"Katherine has been telling us of your day," Charles told him.

"It's been a pretty good one," Jack said.

"Indeed," Charles responded with a smile.

"She tell ya 'bout Romeo, yet?"

"She touched on the subject."

"You want to adopt him?" Greta asked.

"Yup. Prob'ly about as much as he wants to be adopted."

They all chuckled softly at that, knowing it to be true.

"We didn't set out wantin' to adopt him. It just sorta happened." He shared the story of getting his gift from Romeo and how that had led to the idea of adoption and the trip to the lawyer's office.

"You's wantin' to adopt him?" Race asked. "Be his real mother and father?"

Kat looked up at Race, who was leaning on his elbows over the back of the couch, peering down at Romeo. "Yes, we do."

He nodded. "Guess it makes sense. He is kinda cute, most times. 'Specially now, when his mouth ain't runnin' non-stop."

Kat's mouth tipped up in a grin. "You're kinda cute, too, when you're not getting your feathers ruffled over some little thing or another."

Jack and the other newsies burst out laughing at Kat's observation.

Race blushed, but rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Yeah, but he's a little kid. He needs a ma and pop."

"Are you saying you're too old to be adopted?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. I guess."

"That's too bad," Kat looked at Jack. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah. Guess we'll have to tell Adam to take Race off the list."

Kat sighed dramatically. "I suppose," she sing-songed in a disappointed tone.

"What're you two talkin' about?" Race asked.

Kat just sighed melodramatically again.

Greta snorted, trying to choke back her mirth.

The entire room erupted into laughter.

When the hilarity died down, Jack wiped the tears from his eyes and explained. "Well, Race, when we talked to the lawyer 'bout adopting Romeo, we asked him 'bout adopting the rest of you's, too. But if you don't want us to..."

"What!" several surprised boys cried in near unison. They converged on the couple sitting on the couch.

Greta shushed them into lowering their voices somewhat so as not to wake Romeo and the now-sleeping Annie.

They all spoke at once.

"What d'ya mean, Jack?" asked Specs.

"Ya really wants to adopt us?" Race wanted verified.

"Will I still get to learn to cook?" was Albert's main concern.

"D'ya mean us, too?" asked Finch for himself and Albert.

Crutchie stayed in his chair near the fire, not saying anything, but looking with longing at the crowd around the couch. He clutched his horse, pulling it onto his lap. The movement caught Darcy's eye, and he pushed Crutchie into the throng of boys.

"Hiya, Crutch," Albert said as he moved to the side to allow room for the chair, resting his elbow on the armrest.

"Can ya really adopt us all?" Crutchie asked softly.

Jack smiled at him. "Well, there's lots of details that gotta be worked out, but the point is, yeah, we wants to adopt all of ya." He looked around at the faces of his friends, his brothers, his family. "We wants to be a real family, not just a group of people who says they is."

"But," Kat warned them, "we only want to do it if you want us to."

"You really wants us?" Race asked, finding it hard to believe what they were telling him.

"Of course we do, silly," she admonished. "Would we have worked so hard to get you to stay if we didn't want you?"

"But wantin' us to stay is different from wantin' us for forever."

She reached up and tugged on his neck, pulling his head down to touch her temple to his. "We want them both," she assured him. "Ruffled feathers and all."

He blushed again, dipping his head in embarrassment before standing up. "Can't argue with that, can I?"

"If anyone could, it'd be you," Albert tossed out.

Laughter filled the room once more.

They went back to their games, but it wasn't long before they began drifting upstairs to bed.

"Good night, boys," Kat said as they filed out. "I'll be up shortly."

Charles carried Annie to her room, followed by Greta. Soon, it was just Jack, Kat, Crutchie, and Darcy left in the parlor. They chatted for a little while, until Kat started yawning.

"Guess it's time for me to head upstairs, myself," she admitted. "Darcy, are you staying tonight?"

"No, I'll head on home."

"Do ya wanna finish our game?" Crutchie asked shyly.

Darcy smiled, looking quickly to Kat and Jack to see if it was OK.

"You two go on," Jack told them. "Let me get Romeo up and settled, and I'll be back down in a few minutes." He stood and scooped the sleeping boy into his arms.

Kat kissed both Crutchie and Darcy on the cheek, with a cheerful "Good night," before following Jack up the stairs.

Together, they got Romeo into bed, letting him sleep in his clothes, but removing his shoes and suspenders. Once under the covers, he curled up around his fire cat again, but never woke up. They left his door cracked open as they left his room.

At the top of the stairs, Jack pulled Kat into his arms and held her for a long time. "This was about the most perfect day I can ever remember," he whispered into her hair.

She pulled back and looked deeply into his eyes. "For me, too," she agreed softly. She drank in his features. "I love you so much."

He cradled her face in his hands and softly kissed her lips, breathing in her scent. He looked down at her and she could read his love for her in his eyes. He kissed her again then they parted, she to say final good nights to the boys, and he to make sure Crutchie didn't stay up all night. When everyone was finally settled for the night, and they were once again together in their room, their Perfect Day ended on a perfect note.


	14. Chapter 14: Change is Coming

There wasn't a newsie living in Kelly House that ever looked back on the next month or so without remembering it as idyllic. For the first time in years, if not their entire lives, they had regular meals, a safe place to sleep, and a home filled with love and laughter. They got healthier in appearance as they put on much needed weight; cockiness gradually turned to confidence; and minds that didn't have to focus on survival turned to other, more pleasant things. Sooner than Jack and the others might have guessed, the newsies were selling fewer papers and clamoring for other ways to fill their days. The first few mornings, though, found them still rising early as they'd done for years. Greta had learned her lesson and had breakfast preparations underway before they came thundering down the stairs.

Specs was first through the door and he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Greta at the stove and the smell of something wonderful in the air. He smiled and sniffed appreciatively as the others piled up behind him, griping at the delay, wondering what was going on.

"Well, come on in. Don't be shy," Greta cajoled.

Specs moved forward, allowing the others to fall into the kitchen. Their senses were immediately captivated by the promise of breakfast, and more than one stomach rumbled in anticipation.

"Whacha doin', Greta?" Albert asked in hopeful expectation, rubbing his stomach.

"Cooking breakfast for the lot of you."

"Yes!" Albert all but danced over to see what she was concocting. "Can I help?"

"Certainly," she handed him a wooden spoon. "Watch the oatmeal. Stir it every now and then to keep it from overflowing."

He glowed with happiness at the responsibility. "I's cookin!" he whispered to himself.

"Yes, dearest, you are," Greta confirmed fondly, patting his shoulder.

"Greta, you don't gotta do that," Elmer began. "The Sisters'll give us somethin'," he squeaked, then cowered behind Race at the glare Greta was leveling at him, "in a couple hours," he finished meekly.

"Not one of my boys is to leave this house in the mornings without eating a good and proper breakfast. Not without a _very_ good reason. Do you _all_ understand me?" She pinned each one of them with a look that brooked no argument.

They all nodded.

She snapped her eyes to Elmer, who had opened his mouth to speak. "Cold coffee and stale doughnuts in a couple of hours does _not_ count as breakfast and is most definitely _not_ a good enough reason to leave here without eating first. Do I make myself clear?"

Five heads meekly nodded.

"Don't gotta tell me twice," Albert quipped.

Jack burst out laughing behind them. "Don't worry 'bout it, fellas. I got the same talk when she first moved in." He squeezed around the boys into the kitchen. "Mornin', Greta," he greeted her as he headed to the stove. "She's gotcha cookin' already, eh?" he lightly punched Albert's arm.

"Yup! Oatmeal!"

"Good stuff," Jack told him. "Sticks to your ribs all mornin'."

"Ain't never had it," Albert admitted, giving the cereal a stir.

"You's gonna love it." Jack looked back at the boys still huddling in the doorway. "Trust me, fellas, there's nothin' better than leavin' for work in the mornin' with a belly full of hot food that tastes like heaven."

"Quite right," Greta told them. "Now, Race, you get the plates, one for everyone. Specs, get the silverware." She assigned each boy a task and in moments, the kitchen was buzzing with activity as the boys got the table ready and Greta set the food out.

"What's that?" Finch asked warily as a bowl of steaming oatmeal was put in front of him.

"Oatmeal. It'll keep you feeling full for a long time," Greta explained, adding toast and jam to the table. "Perfect for a frosty morning spent outdoors."

"Oatmeal?" Romeo wrinkled his nose in distaste. "They gave us that at that orphans' home. It's pretty nasty stuff."

"Romeo," Jack warned.

Greta held up a hand to stop him. "It can be bland," she agreed with Romeo, "and it's very easy to cook it wrong, so that it's lumpy or gooey or watery."

He nodded.

"But," she put a bowl in front of him. "This is cooked just right and you can add milk and butter to it to give it some flavor, with maybe a touch of sugar to sweeten it up a bit?" She added each item as she mentioned them, then handed him a spoon.

All eyes were on Romeo as he bravely scooped up a spoonful and put it in his mouth. His face lit with delight and he hurried to swallow it so he could gush, "That's good, Greta! How'd you do that?" He spooned up another mouthful before she could respond.

Encouraged by Romeo's reaction, the others added milk, butter, and sugar to their own bowls and exclaimed at the flavor.

"I ain't never had nothin' this good for breakfast before," Elmer declared.

"You's the best cook ever," Albert decreed.

A chorus of approval echoed around the table.

She beamed at them. "I'm glad you're enjoying it, my dears. Don't forget to try the toast, too."

"Toast?" Race scoffed. "Ain't that just a fancy name for dried up, old, stale bread? I's had enough of that."

"You haven't had my dried up, old, stale bread, have you?"

Several boys shook their heads, their eyes gleaming in anticipation.

"So, what d'we do to it?" Specs asked, taking a slice. He nibbled a corner. "Ain't nothin' special."

"You can eat it plain, if you want to, but I prefer to add some butter and jam."

"Both?"

"Sure."

Specs spread on the butter and some strawberry jam and took another bite. He closed his eyes in bliss.

The others now scrambled to fix their own pieces of toast. Soon moans of enjoyment filled the room.

"Oh, God, Greta, you's gotta be the best cook ever."

"Mmm-hmm!"

"This is heaven!"

"Greta, will you marry me?"

Jack and Greta burst into laughter. "Why don't you wait a bit and ask me again in a few years?" she suggested, as she joined them at the table. She'd eat her breakfast later, with the others, but she prepared a piece of toast for herself to enjoy now. Jack sat at the other end of the table, sipping a mug of coffee.

There was good-natured conversation for the next few minutes as the boys finished breakfast. When they were done, there wasn't a crumb of toast left on a plate, nor a drop of milk left in the pitcher.

"Man, I's so full, I ain't sure I can move," Race proclaimed.

Contented rumbles of agreement were heard from everyone.

"How about working off some of what you just ate by helping me set the kitchen to rights again?" Greta suggested in her practical manner. "Whatever you put on the table, you collect, rinse, and stack next to the sink. So, Race you get all the plates. Specs, pick up the silverware, and so on."

In a rumble of chairs and a clattering of dishes, the boys made short work of clearing the table and leaving things the way had Greta requested.

As they were putting on their coats Greta issued a reminder. "Boys, remember you don't have to sell papes to eat anymore, so try to be back for lunch. We've got things to do this afternoon."

"You got it, Greta."

"Don't gotta ask me twice."

"I's so full I might not be able to eat lunch!"

"Damn! It's cold out here! It weren't this cold yesterday, were it?"

"Yeah. But where you sleep just got warmer than anywhere else you's ever slept."

"Guess so."

"What's the headline gonna be today, ya think?"

Greta and Jack watched the boys head down the alley behind the houses, smiling at their conversation.

"Albert? Romeo? What's up?" Jack asked the two boys dawdling behind the rest.

"Ummm, nothin'?" Albert hedged.

Romeo looked at the pack of boys, then back at Jack.

"Get yourselves in here so we can shut the door," Greta instructed. "We're letting all the warm air out."

The boys scrambled back into the kitchen, but hovered uncertainly by the door.

"What's up, fellas?" Jack asked again.

Albert glanced at the stove. "Ummm...I's wonderin' if Mare and Crutchie missed breakfast 'cause we ate it all?"

"No, sweetie, I'll make breakfast again in a couple of hours when they get up. Don't you worry about how much you eat. We have plenty for everyone."

"Oh."

"Greta?" Jack spoke up, his eyes on Albert's dejected form.

"Yes?"

"Ain't there stuff ya gotta be doin' to get ready for the next breakfast?"

She looked at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. "No. I've just got to wash these dishes and then –" She stopped at Jack's grin and twinkling eyes.

He tilted his head at Albert.

She looked over and it clicked. She smiled in thanks at Jack as she amended, "My stars! I completely forgot I was going to make pancakes for them instead of oatmeal. Do you think there's enough time for me to do that all alone before they come down?"

"I dunno," Jack mused. "Maybe if ya had someone to help out?"

"That would be perfect," she agreed, "but who?" She almost laughed out loud at how quickly Albert's demeanor changed.

"I can help ya," he volunteered. "I did a good job with the oatmeal, right?"

"You did, indeed," Greta praised. "I'll be happy to have another set of hands working with me in the kitchen. Now, get your coat off and we'll get started on those dishes."

"OK!" He paused as he hung up his coat. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"'S OK, ain't it?"

"What's that?"

"If I don't sell papes?"

Jack draped a reassuring arm around Albert's shoulders. "Albert, if I had my way, none of ya's would sell papes no more. But that's somethin' each of ya has to decide on your own. You can cook with Greta or sell papes or mix it up. It's up to you. But no matter what, ya gots family here – a place to live and eat and sleep – and that ain't goin' away. Got it?"

Albert nodded.

"Alright. Now get outta here."

Albert grinned as Jack pretended to push him away.

Jack looked down at Romeo. "You wanta cook, too?"

"No. Um, yeah, I will if Greta wants me to, but, ummm..."

"Yeah?"

Romeo lifted pleading eyes to Jack. "Ya said as how Ma was sad yesterday when she got up and none of us was here so I thought I could stay and maybe she wouldn't be so sad today? But if I gotta work to stay I will. I could help Greta cook or – " his mind drew a blank, not knowing what else there was to do around a home, "– or somethin'?" he ended meekly.

"What a thoughtful boy!" Greta declared, pulling him into a hug. "I'm glad you stayed this morning because I'll be working here with Albert and won't be able to go to the store to get what I need to make pancakes."

"I could go," Romeo offered eagerly.

"You could, couldn't you?"

"And what'll ya be needin'?" Jack asked wryly, knowing full well that Greta's pantry was fully stocked and she didn't need anything.

She met his grin with one of her own. "I'll need some flour, just a small bag, now, not too much. And a bottle of milk, if Baylor has it in yet. And maybe a few eggs."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Is that all?" he quipped, pulling on his coat.

"Yes. I think that'll do for now," she smiled innocently at him.

He laughed. "OK, Romeo. It seems we're braving the elements to get flour, milk, and eggs."

"Yeah!" Romeo bounded out the door, eager to complete his important mission.

Jack rolled his eyes at Greta and followed his son out the door.

Not quite an hour later, Romeo entered the kitchen with no less exuberance than when he'd left. "Greta, look! I brung you some flowers!" He thrust a bedraggled bouquet of mostly wilted flowers at her. "Ain't they pretty?"

"Oh, my, yes! They certainly are!" she exclaimed in delight. "I've never seen any prettier than these."

"I know. I brung some for Ma, too." He showed her a second bouquet of equally tired blooms.

"My goodness, aren't they pretty?"

"Yup. Mr. Baylor is real nice. He said if I could count them he'd give them to me two for a penny when they's usually two pennies for one!"

"What a bargain!" Greta told him in an impressed tone.

"That's 'discount,' squirt," Jack corrected. "It means some money off the regular price." He helped Romeo out of his coat and hung it next to his on one of the hooks by the door.

Romeo looked at Jack, then back at Greta. "Yeah, that. And I had a penny in my pocket and he says if I cuts the ends off and puts 'em in water, they may stand up straight. Do ya thinks they will, Greta?"

"I think they just might. Let me get the scissors and some vases for you, then you can snip the ends off and arrange them for us. They'll look real nice on the table, I do say." She hugged him. "Thank you, Romeo. These are about the most beautiful flowers I've ever gotten."

"Even if they don't stand up straight?"

"Yes, even then," she smiled at him and kissed his forehead, then gathered up the shears and vases for him to care for the flowers. She showed him how to snip just the ends of the stems before he put them in the water, then set him and Albert to arranging the flowers as it wasn't quite time to start cooking breakfast for the rest of the family just yet.

Jack put their other purchases on the counter with a knowing grin. "Baylor talks about as much as Romeo, so I let them have at it for as long as I could stand it."

"Thank you," she said with an apologetic smile.

"Anytime," Jack promised with a wink. "He's a great kid, ya know?" He poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot Greta left brewing on the stove and leaned back against the counter to watch the flower arranging session.

"Yes. I do. They're all great kids."

"Yeah," Jack agreed softly. "They is."

They sat at the table offering advice to Romeo and Albert. Charles soon joined them, and they chatted companionably until Annie came in, yawning broadly. She was immediately intrigued by the flowers and joined the boys in their task. Jack took that as his cue to go wake his wife. Saturdays were lazier days for them, but she didn't like to sleep the day away, and he always enjoyed helping her wake up.

Jack thought he'd slipped away unobserved, but halfway up the stairs, he felt a small hand slip into his. He looked down into Romeo's smiling, trusting face, and all thoughts of the delicious ways he'd planned to wake up Kat fled his mind. But he found he couldn't regret it. He loved Kat deeply; wouldn't, _couldn't_ imagine life without her; but havin' the fellas livin' here, where he could keep an eye on 'em, and now Romeo wantin' him for a Pop, he just felt more ... complete – as silly as that might sound if he ever said it out loud – than he'd ever felt since before his Ma died. And if havin' a family meant givin' up Saturday mornin's with Kat, then, well, he'd just have to think of other ways to get her alone, wouldn't he? Ya didn't live on the streets for as long as he had without learnin' how to get creative about gettin' what ya wanted.

He smiled at Romeo, tucking him into his side as they got to the top of the stairs. He rapped on the door a couple times, then cracked it open. "Knock, knock, sleepyhead. You awake, yet?" He stuck his head in and peered at the bed.

"Mmmmm," was the sleepy reply, but she was stirring, at least.

"Wake up. Ya gots company."

She lifted her head at that. "What? Who?"

"Ma?" Romeo's head appeared below Jack's.

"Oh," Kat came to attention, turning over and scooting back to lean against the headboard. She pushed the hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears as she smiled at them. "My fellas," she said warmly. "Come sit with me for a minute or two before we have to join the rest of the world."

Romeo didn't have to be asked twice. In a flash, he was across the room, burrowing under the covers and into her arms.

"Good morning, sweetie. Ow! Kick off your shoes. That's better. How are you this morning?"

He set off telling her of his morning's adventures in his adorably rambling way.

Jack sat on Kat's other side, preferring to remain on top of the covers, but wrapping his arms around them both as he and Kat shared secret, silent greetings while listening to Romeo's tale with half an ear. When at last Romeo's story had wound down and Kat had made all the appropriate exclamations and appreciations, Jack suggested Romeo go get the book he'd given Jack the day before.

"New pictures?"

Jack nodded.

Romeo was off the bed and out the door in the blink of an eye.

Jack figured they had about ninety seconds all to themselves and he took full advantage of them.

If Kat was a bit breathless and Jack was looking rather pleased with himself, Romeo didn't notice when he charged back into the room, hopped up on the bed, and squirreled his way between these two people he loved more than anything else in the world.

In what would become a Saturday morning tradition for them, they sat together for a little while and looked at Jack's pictures and remembering all that had happened over the past week. Eventually, Jack would usher Romeo back to the kitchen while Kat got dressed, then they'd have breakfast together with the rest of the family.

* * *

At Kelly House, Saturday mornings were slower than the rest of the week. Greta made a breakfast as usual, determined to get everyone's day off to a good start, but lunch and dinner were on your own. She left plenty of cold cuts and vegetables in the ice box, and made sure there was plenty of bread for sandwiches for those who opted to eat in, but she didn't prepare a meal.

And on Saturdays, since no one hurried off to work, she had the luxury of enjoying her coffee after breakfast while the others, usually led by Charles, whose idea it was in the first place, cleared the table and washed the dishes. This particular Saturday, their first with the newsies, Kat and Romeo had been tasked with collecting and rinsing the dishes and putting the food in the icebox; Jack and Charles would wash and dry the dishes that Annie would then put away. After they had completed their part, Kat gave Romeo some paper and pencils so he could draw pictures to go with the story he was telling to his fire cat.

"Romeo, sweetie, use a quieter voice, OK? No, you don't have to whisper, just talk a little more softly so that Greta, Albert, and I can talk, too. That's a sweet boy." She ruffled his hair and he beamed at her praise.

Annie, who was waiting to do her part, joined Romeo and they created a fantastic story, with Annie writing the words because Romeo told her, "I don't know my letters so good to write fast enough," though he was more than happy to draw the pictures.

It was the kind of scene Jack loved and treasured most – everyone enjoying everyone else's company, happy, warm, loved. These kind of moments reminded him of those long ago times with his parents and Eddie. They hadn't had much, but they'd had each other, and Jack couldn't have imagined anyone on earth being happier than they were back then. He was adding the last dried plate to the stack when the door burst open.

Everyone jumped.

"My word!" Charles exclaimed, rushing to get the two cold boys standing there into the kitchen, and shut the door.

"Specs, Elmer, you OK?" Jack asked in alarm.

"Yeah, we's fine," Specs told him.

"It's snowin'," Elmer announced.

"Rainin'," Specs corrected.

Charles looked out the window. "It does appear to be doing a bit of both," he confirmed.

"So, why're you's back home?" Jack asked. "You's both sold papes in worse weather before."

"Yeah," Elmer said uncertainly. "But, um, Greta said as how we don't gotta sell papes to eat no more, and ..."

"And, what? You figured you'd come home and be lazy on a cold Saturday mornin'?"

They just looked at him expectantly, not noticing the twinkle in his eyes.

"Good thinkin', fellas. That's what we's gonna do."

They relaxed with huge sighs of relief as they hung their coats on the pegs by the door.

"What'd ya do with your papes?" Jack asked.

"Gave 'em to Buttons. His family needs more coal to heat their apartment," Specs told him.

"Tommy Boy's ma's doin' poorly, so's I gave him my papes. Even if no one buys 'em, he'll get somethin' when he sells 'em back to Wiesel."

Jack sighed, hating to hear his friends were not faring well. "Next time you sees 'em, tell 'em the Union's got emergency funds to help with stuff like that. It ain't charity; it's included with the membership."

They both nodded, then Specs asked, "Jack, what's 'bein' lazy'?"

"It's when ya do only what ya wants to do at the speed ya wants to do it."

"Hunh?"

"Ya do somethin' ya likes but ya ain't gotta be somewhere or do anythin' else. Ya just enjoy what ya's doin'."

"Sort of like yesterday, guys," Kat told them, "but without all the excitement."

"Oh," they crooned. They'd both immensely enjoyed yesterday and wouldn't mind doing it again.

Elmer sniffed the air. "Somethin' sure smells good."

Greta laughed. "That big breakfast you ate and you're hungry for more?"

"There ain't never been a time when I ain't been hungry," he said matter-of-factly.

She sobered for a moment and cradled his face in her hands. "Not here, angel. You'll never be hungry here. I promise."

He nodded.

She patted his cheeks and turned to the bread box. "Albert did a good job with the pancakes this morning. They're cold now, but that's when they're best with jam. Specs, get the jam from the icebox. Elmer get a knife and five small plates. Annie, the serving tray, and Romeo, five napkins." In short order, she had the serving tray prepped and in Specs's hands. "Why don't you take that into the parlor and play one of your new games?"

"Parcheesi?" Annie and Romeo eagerly suggested in unison.

Specs shrugged, "Sure. Come on, Elmer."

"Yeah!" Romeo bounded down the hall. "I get to be the tigers!"

Greta caught Albert looking at the door. "Go on, Albert. It's OK."

"But –"

"But nothing, dearest. We've all eaten, the kitchen is clean, and we're just going to sit here talking for a little while. Go play games with the others."

"But Parcheesi only needs four players."

"Go on. You'll work with the others to figure things out. Shoo, now," she flapped her hands at him.

He didn't need any more encouragement. He wanted to be lazy, too.

As he disappeared, Greta heaved a sigh and lowered herself into a chair.

"They can really get to you, can't they?" Kat asked with an understanding smile. "It amazes me what they accept as normal." She looked at Jack with sadness in her eyes for everything he'd endured.

He scooted down the bench to wrap an arm around her. He kissed her temple. "It's gettin' better for 'em all, now," he reminded her.

"I know, but –"

"Hey! You's the same lady that wouldn't let me think about what could go wrong with Crutchie, ain't ya?"

She nodded.

"Well, then, don't you be goin' and doin' the same thing 'bout the rest of the fellas. They's had rough lives, true, but they just got a lot less rough, thanks to you."

"And you," she insisted.

"Whatever. The things is, we got five of seven newsies in the house right now. Think about that now, will you?"

She smiled. "You do have a point."

"Course I do," he squeezed her. "Sometimes I gets to be the one who's right, ya know."

She kissed his cheek. "I know."

The four of them talked for a while before eventually moving into the parlor. The kids had broken into two groups: Annie, Albert, and Romeo were having fun with Parcheesi, while Specs and Elmer were practicing their chess skills. Charles joined them when they had questions, being rather good at chess himself. Greta joined her daughter and the boys at Parcheesi when a new game began, leaving Jack and Kat on their own.

Kat suggested going upstairs, but Jack shook his head.

At her look of disappointment, he chuckled softly. He caressed her face and explained in a low voice, "Believe me, Kat, I wanta go upstairs with you right now, more'n anything." He kissed her just beneath her ear. "But we's got us a boy over there with an uncanny sense of where we is and a knack for findin' us. I'd rather be alone with you here, with all of them in the room, than alone with you upstairs and him on the other side of the door, wonderin' why we won't let him in."

She giggled. "You may have a point."

He drew back in mock alarm. "What's this? I's right 'bout somethin' twice in one mornin'? Somebody better write that down!"

She giggled louder and snuggled into his arms. "I can't believe we're here like this," she told him. "I'm so happy, I can't even begin to describe it."

He squeezed her. "I know, Kat. I know."

The rest of the morning was spent in games, conversation, and just being together until they heard Race and Finch blow into the kitchen, cursing the cold outside and praising the warmth inside.

"Lunchtime," Greta declared. She headed for the kitchen ahead of everyone else to greet the two boys and set out lunch. She had Race and Finch sit by the fire to warm up and got the others to help her as they trickled in. In no time, everyone was enjoying sandwiches around the table.

"How was sellin' today?" Albert asked.

"Terrible," Race told him. "Ain't no one wants to come out in all this on a Saturday mornin' and those there is don't wanta take their hands out their pockets just to buy a pape. Shoulda prob'ly come back with Specs and Elmer," he admitted.

"Woulda been a lot warmer," Finch observed.

"How many'd ya sell?" Specs asked.

"Not many," Finch told him. "Maybe thrity or so. I got fifty, so's at least I got back what I spent to get 'em. Gave the rest to Tommy Boy."

"Me, too," Race added. "But gave mine to Buttons. Specs tell ya them two is in a poor way?"

Jack nodded. "Next time ya sees 'em, tell 'em to come see me."

"Got it," they agreed.

After lunch had been devoured, Greta served a dessert of cookies and milk. While they were remembering the fun they'd had making the cookies, Greta saw a coat fall off a peg and onto the floor. She went to put it back up and noticed that it was threadbare across the shoulders, with several holes in the seams, and excessively frayed cuffs. She glanced through the other newsies' coats and found them all to be in similar states of disrepair. Kat joined her, asking what she was doing. Greta handed her the coat she'd picked up.

Kat examined all the coats, too, then caught Jack's eye and motioned him over.

After he inspected the coats, he sighed. "Winter's only gonna get worse, too, ain't it?" he muttered.

The women could only agree with his assessment.

He nodded, then made an announcement, "OK, fellas. Change of plans. Finish up here, then get your coats on. We's goin' out."

"Where's we goin'?"

"You lot need coats."

"But we gots coats."

Jack silenced all protests with a look. "Whacha got is OK for sellin' papes, but you ain't livin' here without havin' a decent coat like the rest of us have."

"But –"

"Keep your newsie clothes if ya wants to. I don't care. I ain't askin' ya to give them up. But all of ya need decent clothes and you's gonna get 'em. Today." His tone brooked no objections and he received none from the wide-eyed boys at the table. "Don't just sit there," he chided them in a teasing tone. "Get movin' before I crack me some heads."

There was a bustle of activity as they scarfed down the remainder of their milk and cookies, put dishes beside the sink, and shrugged into their meager coats. Charles commandeered a couple of the boys to wrestle Crutchie's chair outside while Annie went to get a blanket to tuck around his legs.

Crutchie tried to protest that he didn't need new clothes while his legs were broken, but Jack ignored him, and soon Crutchie was bundled up and trundling down the alley in the center of the group of boys, Race pushing his chair.

Jack looked at the others, still in the kitchen. "Well, what're ya's waitin' for? Get your coats on!" He held up Annie's coat for her to slip into.

"Really?" she asked hopefully.

Jack winked at her. "Why should the fellas have all the fun?"

She squealed as she shimmied into her coat and was out the door and down the alley with the boys before Jack got the next coat down.

Jack handed Greta's coat to Charles, who ignored her protests as Jack had ignored Crutchie's. When she was at last buttoned up, he shrugged into his own coat and attempted to take her arm to escort her down the street. She didn't budge. She looked at Jack, steely determination in her posture, and opened her mouth to protest.

Jack was having none of it. "Greta, when was the last time you got somethin' pretty and new just for fun?" he asked her before she could speak. Over her sputtering, he continued, "Don't worry 'bout it. Just think of it as a ...," he looked at Kat, "What is it when you makes sure someone who works for ya can get decent clothes?"

"A clothing allowance."

"Yeah, Greta. Think of it as that."

"I don't have a clothing allowance."

"You do now," Charles interceded, linking her elbow with his and escorting her out the door.

Alone for the moment, Jack looked at Kat and smiled warmly. "And you, –"

He was cut off from saying more by her kiss. Never one to object to receiving his wife's affections, he wrapped his arms around her as he deepened the kiss. When they pulled apart, he looked down at her, but said nothing. Her smile told him all he needed to know. He helped her into her coat, walked her outside, and, after locking the door behind them, escorted her down the alley toward the small crowd awaiting them.


	15. Chapter 15: Albert

The next couple of weeks saw the beginnings of a shift in things for the newsies. They still got up early, but found it harder to be as aggressive selling papes with full bellies. As promised, Jack didn't force or ask them to give up their newsie clothes, but feeling warm in a new coat only made it apparent to them all exactly how cold they had been, and it got harder each day to don their thin, dirty clothes and threadbare coats to brave the elements for something they no longer had to do in order to survive. Gradually, they got up later or came home sooner until they eventually stopped selling papers altogether, having tasted a better way of life and not wanting to return.

But not for Albert. There was no gradual easing into a new way of living for him; he embraced it from that first day when Jack told him it was OK to not sell papes anymore. He was finally learning to cook and he loved every minute he spent in the kitchen. Greta didn't seem to mind having him there, either, even if he burned the toast or broke a dish or cut his thumb while peeling potatoes. She just smiled and said it was all part of learning; then she showed him how to scrape off the burned parts, had him sweep up the broken glass, and taught him how to peel a potato with a bandage on his thumb. She never yelled or got upset with him. He didn't understand why, because he thought he was clumsy and in the way, but she never said so. Instead, she showed him how to bake cookies or make soup or chop vegetables.

He wanted to stay in the kitchen all the time, but she said there was more to life than cooking and made him go play games and spend time with Jack and Mare and the fellas. He always had fun, so he was glad she did, but he was happiest in the kitchen. She wouldn't even let him trade his other chores with the newsies so he could be in the kitchen more; he had to learn how to do all of it, she said, and so did they, so no trading of chores for anyone.

He even had his own apron! Greta had asked him why he wore his newsie clothes when he wasn't selling papes anymore and he had several new outfits in his room.

"I don't wanta get the new ones dirty," he'd explained. Then his spoon slipped and a puff of flour dusted his shirt and the countertop.

"Yes, I see what you mean," Greta said with a chuckle as she wiped off the counter.

He brushed at the flour on his shirt. "Geez, I'm really sorry, Greta."

"There's nothing to worry about, angel. It cleans up easily enough. And there isn't a cook alive who doesn't get flour all over everything. That's what flour does. Now, finish mixing those biscuits and we can get them in the oven."

Two mornings later, she'd given him an apron. His very own apron. It was made of creamy colored canvas and she'd sewn his name on it in dark green letters that looked like headlines in the papes.

"For me?"

"Yes, silly, for you. Unless there's someone else around here named Albert."

He shook his head. "No. I's the only one."

"Then it must be for you." She took it from him and looped the strap around his neck, then turned him around to tie it at his waist. "Look at that. A perfect fit."

He didn't know what to say. It was the first time he'd ever gotten a gift just for him. Yeah, Kat had gotten the games and things, but they were for everyone to use. Then Jack had gotten them clothes, and sure, Albert's clothes were his and he didn't have to share them, but all of them had gotten new clothes at the same time. This was different. This was a present especially for him and no one else, and his was the only one. "Greta, I –, it's –, uh –"

She framed his face with her hands and smiled. "You're welcome, dearest." She kissed his forehead and asked, "Now, shall we get breakfast started?"

He nodded, quickly swiping at his eyes as he turned to the counter to slice the bread for toast. Everyone loved his apron, and he glowed with pride at their compliments.

A couple nights later, he was helping Greta prepare dinner and she asked him to get some more potatoes and onions from the pantry, pointing at a door he hadn't noticed before. He had just disappeared through the door when Race and Specs came into the kitchen, looking for a snack. They managed to pilfer a slice of bread each before Greta shooed them to the table and gave them each a glass of milk.

"That's a whole lotta potatoes, Greta," Specs observed, eyeing the considerable pile sitting beside the sink.

"It takes a lot of food to feed three dozen people," she told them.

They laughed, then Race furrowed his brow and asked, "That how many people live here?"

Greta looked at them for a long moment, then told him to get pencils and paper from her desk. "Now," she told them, "you tell me if we have three dozen people living here. On this sheet, make a list of everyone living here and count them. On this one, figure out how many three dozen is if one dozen equals twelve."

They worked at it for a few minutes while Greta started peeling the potatoes.

"You's pullin' our leg, Greta," Race chortled. "There's only twelve people living here, not thirty-six."

"Very good," she praised, "but what if each newsie eats enough for two people? How many will I be cooking for then?" she queried with a smile as they eagerly set to solving the new riddle. A few minutes later, she was nearly done peeling the potatoes when she realized that Albert wasn't back from the pantry yet. "Wherever did he get to?" she wondered out loud.

"What's that, Greta?" Specs asked.

"I was just wondering what was taking Albert so long. I sent him to the pantry to get more potatoes, but he isn't back yet."

"Where's the pantry?" Race looked around the kitchen.

"In the cellar."

Race and Specs were instantly alert. "Cellar?" Race asked.

"Yes," she pointed at the door. "Is something wrong?"

The boys didn't answer her in their haste to get to the cellar. Race got there first. He threw open the door and barreled down the steps. "Specs, turn on the light!"

Specs flipped the switch a few times. "It don't work!"

"Damn!" came the muttered response from below. "Hold the door open, then. I can't see a thing down here."

Greta peered down the dark stairway. "That light was working this morning. The light bulb must have blown out."

Specs gently pulled her to the side so she wouldn't keep blocking the light.

"Specs, what's wrong?"

"Albert don't like dark rooms."

"Oh, dear. I didn't know. I should go help find him."

Specs stopped her with an arm in front of her. "Let Race get him."

"OK," she said uncertainly.

A few minutes later they heard Race curse again. "Found him! Specs, I need Crutchie!"

Specs dashed out of the kitchen yelling for Crutchie. Everyone in the parlor froze in surprise as Specs stormed into the parlor, found Crutchie, and said, "It's Albert," then grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and pushed Crutchie out of the room.

Jack muttered a curse and left, right on their heels.

It didn't take but a second or two for the others to overcome their shock and scramble to the kitchen, too. Jack had disappeared down the stairs, and Specs was struggling to get Crutchie on his back when they all got there. Charles stepped in, scooped Crutchie up in his arms, then carried him downstairs. Specs stayed at the top of the stairs to keep everyone else back so they didn't block what light was making its way into the cellar.

Charles made his way back up the stairs. "A lamp," he said. "They need a lamp down there."

"Of course," Kat said. She ran to Jack's study, carefully grabbed the oil lamp off his desk, remembered to get a box of matches from a desk drawer, then hastened back to the kitchen.

Charles took the lamp and matches into the cellar. In seconds, a warm glow of light filled the room. Everyone upstairs breathed a sigh of relief, then settled in at the table to wait.

Downstairs, Jack and Race had waited tensely for Crutchie to arrive. After Charles had him settled on a stool and gone for the lamp, Crutchie asked, "What happened?"

"Dunno for sure," Race answered. "Greta sent him to the pantry for more potatoes, but I don't think he knowed it was in a cellar. He musta come down and then the light bulb blew out."

Jack cursed. "It's my fault," he growled. "I didn't even think –"

"Ain't no one's fault," Crutchie cut him off. "We's just gotta get him outta here."

"Yeah," Jack and Race agreed.

They heard a whimper from under a table near the far wall. Crutchie motioned to the other two to keep quiet. "Albert? You in here?" He inquired gently. After a minute or two of silence, he tried again. "Albert? It's Crutchie. Where are you?"

"Crutchie?"

"Yeah. I's here."

"I can't find Arthur."

"Don't you worry 'bout Arthur none. He's in my room. Don't ya remember?"

"He's there?"

"Yeah. Why don't ya come outta there and we'll go see him."

"Can't."

"Why not?"

"Snyder'll get me for sure," came the fearful whisper.

"He can't get ya," Crutchie assured him.

"He will. I know it. He will."

"He won't. I promise."

There was no response. Crutchie imagined Albert was huddled up as small as he could get, his arms wrapped around his legs. "Albert?"

"It's too dark."

"We just lit a lamp. It ain't dark no more."

"I can't see nothin'."

"Open your eyes and come on out to me."

"Don't want Snyder to get me."

"He won't."

"He will. I know he will."

"He can't. Jack's here. You know Jack won't let Snyder or anyone hurt ya ever again."

"Jack's here?"

"Yeah, kid. I's here," Jack answered.

"Crutchie?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't move. I's so cold. I can't see nothin'."

After a few more minutes of trying to coax a terrified Albert from his hiding spot, Charles pulled Jack to one side and asked how long it took to get Albert out when this happened.

"Don't really know," Jack admitted. "It's only happened a couple a times since we found him, 'cause after the first time he woke up screamin' in the dark, we's always made sure he's where there's light."

"I see."

"Crutchie's more patient than the rest of us, so's we get him to try and talk Albert out. But it ain't 'til Albert sleeps it off that he really gets over it. Bein' in the dark sends his mind back to rememberin' –" Jack cut himself, unable to say any more.

"I see," Charles said again. "May I assume this is a result of Albert's treatment in that place erroneously named The Refuge?"

"Don't gotta assume nothin'," Jack bit out. "I'll tell ya straight out it is."

"I see," Charles mulled the situation over for a moment before he looked at Jack. "With your permission, I'd like to try something I have seen work on others in similar situations."

Jack looked at Charles for a minute before he heard Albert whimper again. Crutchie was trying his best to get through to their friend, but it didn't seem to be working. "Will it help him?"

"I cannot, of course, make guarantees, but it may. Albert appears to me to be in a similar state as those on whom I have seen this technique work."

Jack thought it over a moment, looking at both Race and Crutchie to see what they thought. At their nods, Jack agreed. "Anythin's better than this. He's already gonna hate that it happened."

Charles looked at the three worried faces before him. He picked up Crutchie and placed him on a nearby table. "Gentlemen," he began, "your devotion to your friend is commendable. He is a very lucky lad to have people like you watching out for him. With your assistance, I would like to try a simple technique that I have seen work many times."

"What is it?" Race asked suspiciously. "Ain't gonna hurt him, is it?"

"Goodness, no!" Charles assured them. "All I want to do is tell him to come out."

"But we tried that already," Crutchie said. "It don't work."

"Yes, but Albert knows that you won't be effective protection against Snyder. I am much older than you are and he doesn't know me quite as well. I am hoping that I may use that to our favor in convincing him to leave his hiding place."

"What if it don't work?" Race wanted to know.

"Then we will work to keep Albert feeling safe while we figure out another way to try and get him out."

Race pondered Charles's words for a moment before looking to Crutchie and Jack. They both seemed to like the idea, so Race told Charles, "Let's give it a try, then."

"Thank you." He smiled reassuringly at the boys. "I appreciate your trust in me." He turned toward Albert. "Albert," Charles said sternly.

"Snyder!" Albert squeaked.

"I am not Snyder. I am Charles."

"Why's you here?"

"To protect Jack. As we leave, Jack will be ahead of us, making sure Snyder doesn't see you. I will be behind Jack, making sure Snyder doesn't see Jack."

"Someone'll see me and tell!"

"No. We are going to bundle you up to look like a sack of potatoes. No one will know it's you."

"Potatoes?"

"Yes. Anyone who sees me will see me carrying only a sack of potatoes. No one will know I am carrying a boy. But you need to come out from under the table so we can take you to Jack's house."

"It's safe there."

"Yes. It is. No one can get you there."

"Safe." After a minute of silence, Albert said in mild but escalating panic, "I can't move! Charles, I can't see and I can't move!"

"Albert, hush!"

Albert hushed, breathing heavily.

"I am going to send Race to you. Once he's there, you'll be able to see and move. Take his hand and let him lead you out."

"Race?"

"I's here, buddy," Race assured his friend. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah. I don't like it here none."

"Give me your hand. Come on. This way. Go slow."

"Race? Do ya knows how to get to Jack's house?"

"Yeah. I'll get ya there. Don't ya worry 'bout that. OK? Here we go. Watch your head." He put his hand on top of Albert's head so he wouldn't bump it on edge of the table.

Albert crawled out from under the table, trembling with fear, eyes wide and dilated, Race's hand clasped in a death grip. His eyes twitched nervously from side to side as he kept watch for Snyder. He was muttering, "He's gonna get me, he's gonna get me," over and over.

Jack knelt in front of Albert. He turned Albert's face so he was looking at Jack. "Albert? Albert? Hush. Snyder ain't gonna get ya. OK? I won't let him."

Albert focused on Jack's words, desperately hanging on to the hope they gave him.

"Have I ever let Snyder get ya?"

Albert shook his head.

"That's right. And he won't get ya now. I's goin' ahead to make sure he's not there. Charles is gonna carry ya behind me, and together we's all gonna leave. OK?"

"Potatoes?"

Jack chuckled. "Yeah. Put this around ya." He wrapped Albert in a blanket someone had tossed down the stairs. "There. You's the best lookin' sack of potatoes I's ever seen."

"Potatoes."

"Yeah." He stood. "Where do we take him?" he asked the others quietly.

"Put him in my bed," Crutchie offered. "We all feel safe in that room."

"Excellent choice," Charles approved. He squatted down to pick up Albert. "Albert," he got Albert's attention.

Albert looked at him.

"We are going to leave now. You must stay quiet, like a sack of potatoes."

"Potatoes."

"That's right." He scooped up Albert, who curled into Charles's chest.

Charles nodded to Jack, who led the way up the stairs. Jack motioned for everyone waiting in the kitchen to stay back and to be quiet as they moved through the kitchen on the way to Crutchie's room. He stopped to whisper something in Greta's ear.

She looked at him, perplexed.

He smiled and nodded.

She shrugged and said, "That's a mighty fine sack of potatoes you have there, Charles."

"Why, thank you, Greta. They are very special potatoes. Only the best for me, you know."

The sack of potatoes giggled softly.

The tension left everyone's posture. Albert would be OK. Sure, he was still in a nightmare in his head, but he'd be OK after he slept for a while. Charles left to put Albert in Crutchie's room, Jack said something softly to Romeo, who dashed out of the room.

Charles was just tucking the covers around Albert when Jack got to Crutchie's room, Romeo by his side, two plush animals snuggled under his arm: his ever-present fire cat, and a large mouse.

Jack handed the mouse to Charles, who accepted it with a questioning glance. Jack nodded at Albert, who was slowly drifting to sleep.

"We did it, Charles, didn't we?" Albert asked sleepily.

"We did, indeed."

"They never thought it was me. Just potatoes."

"Very true. The very best potatoes around."

"Is we at Jack's house yet?"

"We are."

Albert sighed in relief. "We's safe, then?"

"We are."

"Yeah, kid," Jack confirmed. "Ya knows I won't let anyone get ya."

Albert smiled dreamily. "Jack, you's here, too?"

"Yeah. It's my house, ain't it?"

Albert smiled and fell asleep. Or so it seemed. A couple minutes later he sat upright and exclaimed, "Arthur! I left Arthur!"

Jack grabbed his shoulders. "No! Arthur's fine. Charles has him." He motioned Charles over, indicating he should give Albert the mouse.

"Indeed, Albert, I have just fetched him from Crutchie's room. Here you are." He placed the toy in Albert's hand.

Jack moved Albert's fingers over the mouse's tail.

Albert visibly relaxed and fell back into the pillows as his fingers clenched around the tail. "Arthur," he sighed in contentment. "He was my best friend, ya know," and he fell asleep.

"I knows, kid," Jack whispered, adjusting the covers so Albert's arms were free. "I knows."

* * *

Back in the kitchen, everyone was anxiously waiting to hear how Albert was doing. As soon as Jack entered the room, Kat went to his side. He hugged her tight, needing to feel her in his arms, against him.

"He sleepin'?" Race asked. He and Specs had stayed behind to get Crutchie back up the stairs.

Jack nodded. "For now."

"Good."

The newsies all relaxed.

Greta did not. "Would someone mind telling me what that was all about?" she demanded.

"Albert don't like dark rooms," Specs echoed his earlier statement.

"That was much more than a fear of the dark," she observed, glaring at Jack.

"I'd like to know what happened, too," Kat told him.

"The only way to adequately ward off another such occurrence is for all of us to know and understand the stimulus that propelled Albert into such a state to begin with," Charles informed them all.

Jack looked at Race, who shrugged. "May as well," he said in response to Jack's silent question. "We's family, ain't we?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah. We is." He moved to the table, taking Kat with him. Everyone shifted so he could have Kat next to him, with Romeo tucked into her side.

Race sat across the table from Jack.

"You should tell it," Jack told Race. "You found him."

"But you got him outta there."

Jack sighed. "It ain't really our story to tell, but it makes sense for ya's all to know, so we can tell ya what we knows." He thought a moment, then began. "Albert don't talk much about his life before Race and me met him at The Refuge," his fingers dug into Kat's arm as he mentioned the place of his nightmares, "but the little but he's said tells me life wasn't too good for him. But a kid don't end up livin' on the streets if things is good at home, so it makes sense."

"He weren't, though," Race cut in.

"Weren't what?"

"Livin' on the streets."

"Where'd he come from?"

"His pop took him." Gasps of shock rippled around the table. "Leastaways, the man who said he was Albert's pop. Albert ain't quite sure he believes it."

"I didn't know that," Jack said.

"Yeah. Turned him right over to Snyder hisself. Said he'd caught the kid stealin' and he don't abide thiefs livin' in his home. Never told Snyder he was a thief and the only reason Albert stole stuff is because his pop had trained him to do it. Not that Snyder woulda cared."

"But Albert don't steal," Elmer said.

"Not no more," Race clarified. "Once he was old enough to figure out what he was doin' was wrong, he hated doin' it. One day, he decided to stop doin' it at all. That's when his old man took him to Snyder."

"That's just not right!" someone whispered. Mumbled agreements followed.

"Funny thing about The Refuge," Race continued, "is so many boys go in and out, no one pays 'em no mind. But suddenly there was this rumor that a boy'd been brought in by his father, not by a cop or the courts. Only thing is, no one could find him. He weren't on any of the floors or in any of the rooms. That had some boys thinkin' it were only a story.

"Somethin' 'bout it stayed with me, though. Don't know what, but I kept my eyes open for this kid. A week or so passed and I still didn't see him. Then one day, I gets picked to help in the kitchen." He grinned wryly. "Trust me, Greta, it weren't nothin' near so good as what ya got here."

"Ain't that the truth," Finch confirmed. "And the man what runned it weren't near as nice, neither."

"Nope," Elmer said. "I remember once, he slipped on a squashed tomato on the floor. His arm hit a pot of soup and it spilled everywhere. He yelled that he weren't cookin' anymore 'cause he had places to go and someone better clean it up before he got back."

"But how did he feed everyone?" Kat asked, concerned.

"He didn't," Elmer told her. "If he cooked enough, everyone ate. If he didn't, well, better hope you was first in line, 'cause the ones at the back don't eat."

"That's horrible!" Kat gasped.

Elmer shrugged. "It's how it was. If you's lucky, you hooked up with someone who didn't mind sharin'."

"That's, that's–" Kat sputtered.

"Yeah, it is," Jack agreed with her emotions, even if she hadn't the words to express them. "But ya gotta understand, the cook was as crooked as Snyder. He used the money Snyder gave him for cookin' and bought stuff for himself. Mostly liquor. He bought food to feed the boys with whatever was leftover. It's like Elmer said, if it happened there was enough for everyone, we all ate."

"Most times, he lost interest or drank so much he fell asleep," Race added, "so we learned to share so at least we got somethin'."

"Yeah," several boys agreed.

"But what about Albert?" Greta asked.

Race picked up where he'd left off.

 _So's I's helpin' in the kitchen one night and the cook's headin' out to the pub down the street, but he stops at the door. He turns around mutterin' somethin' 'bout rats in the basement and he scrapes his plate into a can – he and Snyder and the guards all ate really good; they never had to worry if there was enough; they usually threw food away – so he scrapes his plate and a couple more into a can then gets a box off a shelf. It's wrapped in brown paper, but I's pretty sure it weren't sugar, like he wanted anyone lookin' to believe. I ain't no spellin' expert, but sugar sure ain't spelled 'shuger'. So he gets this box down and adds a spoonful to the can and stirs it all up. Then he gives it to me and tells me to put it on the stairs to the basement and to don't look at nothin'. Then he leaves._

 _The door to the basement is locked, but the key is hangin' next to it – guess he figured no one'd want to escape down there. So I unlocks the door and head down. It's dark as midnight 'cept for a little bit of light sneakin' in through a window at the top of a wall. Ain't no glass in it, so it's cold as sin, too. And damp. So damp I could feel it on my skin right through my clothes._

 _I headed down the stairs, wonderin' what the cook is hidin', when I hears a noise. "What's that? Who's there?" I asks. But nothin' says nothin' back._

 _I creep forward now, keepin' an eye out for whatever it was when it starts again. This time I don't say nothin', just head to the sound. As I get closer to it, I can tell it's someone singin', real soft-like, and some water drippin'. I get to the floor and see a pile of rags layin' in a puddle in the beam of light comin' in through the window. Then I sees there's puddles everywhere in there, so I forget about tryin' not to get wet and go look at those rags. Turns out there's a boy in 'em. He's the one been singin' and now that I's close enough, I can tell it's just a tune he's hummin', there ain't no words. None I could make out anyway. The water drippin' I heard was him tappin' his hand in a puddle at the end of his arm. His other arm is stretched out the other way in the dark. I don't know if he saw me or not, 'cause I's hard to miss, but he didn't so much as turn his head when I got close. He just kept starin' at the light comin' through the window._

" _Who're you?" I finally asked him._

 _He stopped singin' and tappin' and turned his head to look at me, but he didn't move any other muscles. He stared at the can of food I was still holdin'. "Ya brung food?"_

 _I nodded._

" _Why? Mostly they throws it on the stairs."_

 _I shrugged._

" _It gots sugar on it?"_

 _I nodded._

" _I ain't eatin' it."_

" _I don't think you should."_

" _He put sugar on it the other day and told me it was gonna make life sweeter. I was too sleepy to get up to eat it. So I left it there and Arthur ate it."_

 _His eyes never left the can of food I was holdin' and now he started to cry._

" _He killed Arthur. My best friend and now he's dead."_

 _He cried even harder._

" _Who's Arthur?" I didn't think any other kids were in there._

" _My best friend," he said again and raised his hand that wasn't tappin' the water. He was holdin' the tail of a huge rat._

 _Gasps of horror erupted around the table._

 _A huge, dead rat. I weren't expectin' that at all, so's I jumped and dropped the food. The kid didn't move, just stared at that ugly, dead rat and sobbed. I didn't know what to do. I guessed this was the kid I'd been hearin' 'bout and I knowed he couldn't stay or he'd die for sure. All I could think of was I had to get him to Jack. Jack'd know what to do. Only Jack wasn't in The Refuge with me that time. I knowed the cook'd be out 'til late, but I didn't know who else might come to check on the kid._

 _I ran up to check the kitchen. It was still empty. I went back to the kid. He'd stopped his cryin' and was starin' at the light again. "Hey, kid, we gotta get outta here. Stand up." I told him. He didn't even look at me. "Kid, let's go!"_

 _He still just laid there like a lump. I tried to pull him up, but even though he weren't much more'n skin and bones, I still wasn't much bigger than him, so's I couldn't move him. I told him to stay right there, that I'd be back in a minute. Not that he could go nowhere or that he even heard me. I went back upstairs, careful-like, 'cause weren't no one s'posed to be movin' around. Guards mostly stayed drunk, but they was mean and never missed when they gave you a cuff for whatever it is they said you done wrong. I got back to my room, hopin' someone'd sneak out to go find Jack, but he was there already. He'd come up the fire escape to bring us a little bit of food and a couple blankets. I told him about the kid in the basement. I could tell he didn't want to come in – if he got caught in The Refuge when he wasn't s'posed to be there, then Snyder'd never let him go – so I didn't blame him. But he came in anyway._

" _Basement, you say?"_

" _Yeah. In the kitchen. Key's by the door. Get a bag or somethin'. You ain't gonna be able to leave Arthur."_

" _Who's that?"_

" _His dead rat."_

" _His what!"_

 _I told him about Arthur._

 _Jack sighed. "If it'll keep him quiet, I s'pose I'll have to take it." He shivered._

 _I went with him to the door._

" _Race, you need to stay."_

 _I protested._

" _How long 'til you's out again?"_

" _Two days."_

" _Then ya needs to stay or he'll hunt ya down and you'll be here for two months. Ya knows that."_

 _I nodded. It was true. But I wanted to make sure the kid was gonna make it._

" _I'll get him out and to the doc at The Lodge. I'll come back tomorrow night to let ya know how he is."_

 _I had no choice. I didn't wanta be there any longer than I had to. So I let him leave and hoped all night that the kid would be OK. Next day, I got knocked around by the cook and a guard wantin' to know what I saw in the basement. Told 'em a few times I didn't see nothin', let 'em hit me a few times, and they let me go. Not just outta the kitchen. They let me go a whole day early, on account of my good behavior, they said. I didn't care. I left. Real fast. Before they could change their minds. Woulda gone straight to The Lodge, but wanted to make sure they wasn't followin' me. They was. So I sold papes for a couple hours 'til they got bored and left, then I went to The Lodge to see Jack and the kid. Jack'd gotten him to the doc and he was sleepin', not singin', so I guessed he was doin' OK._

Race sighed. "That's all I know. Jack'll have to tell ya the rest."

The silence in the room was broken only by the sniffles of the women. Kat had her face buried in Jack's shoulder. She'd known things were bad for them in The Refuge, but this was her first introduction to the horrors they must've faced each day there and her heart was breaking for them all.

Greta, who had borne a child, was equally as horrified by Race's story, but from a mother's perspective. She hugged Annie tightly while trying to imagine anyone wanting to subject a child to what Albert had experienced, whether it be your own child or not. Starvation, poison, solitude, and probably a beating or two in between, not to mention the cold and damp. Tears streamed down her cheeks at the thought of sweet Albert enduring all of that, at the thought of them all enduring any portion of that.

She looked around the table. Kat had been stirred out of her misery when Romeo weaseled between her and Jack, seeking assurances and protection from his parents. He was getting it from Kat, but Jack was frozen, eyes staring sightlessly at something only he could see. She looked at the other boys and saw similar expressions of frozen horror. She looked at Charles, who, while profoundly disturbed by Race's story, was not grief-stricken, as the ladies were.

Something had to happen to break the hold their memories had on the boys. Kat recognized this, but didn't know what to do. She looked imploringly at Greta.

Greta nodded, gave Annie one more squeeze and a kiss on the head and said, "Right." She slapped the table, causing everyone to jump. The boys were jolted from their nightmares' grips, but were not entirely free yet. She stood. "Elmer?"

He was sitting next to her. She cradled his face in her hands and leaned down to look into his eyes. "Elmer, honey, look at me."

His eyes slowly came into focus on her face.

"That's my boy," she crooned. "I need you to help me. Can you help me?"

He nodded.

"Very good," she praised. "Now, listen. Can you hear me?"

He nodded, seeming a little less dazed than a moment before.

"There's my angel," she sang softly.

"Oh, Greta," he whimpered and threw his arms around her.

She hugged him tightly until his trembling eased. Then she looked down at him again. "You're safe here, OK?"

He nodded.

"That's right," Kat confirmed. "You're safe here." She hugged Romeo, snuggling him close to her chest.

"Indeed," Charles chimed in, walking to where Race sat, and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Even the bravest of souls needs a place to be where it is safe so one's heart can heal. And, you, my dear lads, are among the bravest of souls I have ever had the honor of knowing. But you are home now, and at home, you need never fear your memories. Give yourselves into our care and we promise to forever protect you." He gently tugged Race into standing, grasped his shoulders, and looked into his eyes. "I promise, you are safe here. We will protect you."

Race's chin wobbled a bit as he struggled to hold in his feelings. Charles pulled him into his arms, holding him securely against his chest. Race held on as tightly as he could, ever so briefly feeling like the child he once was, when his ma had held him the same way and told him everything would be OK. For the first time in a really long time, Race felt like that just might be true. He pulled back, but Charles didn't fully release him. Charles looked at him, silently asking if he'd be OK. Race swiped at his eyes, but nodded. Charles regarded him a moment longer, then nodded in return, letting Race go, but not without first squeezing his shoulders in a silent message of encouragement. Race smiled and rejoined the fellas at the table. Greta and Kat had coaxed Finch and Specs from their memories, so they were looking better, too. Romeo was working his magic on Jack, as his chatter returned, Jack began to relax.

"What'd ya need me to do for ya, Greta?" Elmer asked.

Greta smiled at him. "I need for you and Race to take care of those potatoes. Put them in a few small bowls, cover them with water, and put them in the ice box. They'll keep until tomorrow that way." They got to work on their project. Greta had Finch call Jacobi to bring dinner in, while Specs and Romeo started bringing her mixing bowls and other baking supplies to the table.

Charles moved a chair closer to the fire, then rolled Crutchie out of the hustle and bustle. He sat next to Crutchie for a minute or two, but soon declared, "This will never do." He stood, scooped Crutchie out of the wheelchair, then sat back down with Crutchie sitting across his lap. "That's much better," he proclaimed. "I do apologize if you feel you may be too old for such things, but after our ordeal and Race's story, I am feeling a need to hug someone, and since the others appear to be busy, you are the lucky recipient."

Crutchie sighed and relaxed against Charles. "I don't mind."

They sat quietly for several minutes, watching the activity in the kitchen.

"Charles?" Crutchie eventually asked.

"Yes?"

"Thanks for gettin' Albert out."

"You are quite welcome. Though I would like to point out that I could not have done it without the help of you, Jack, and Race."

"We didn't do nothin'. He weren't listenin' to us."

"On the contrary, my boy. I merely got him out from beneath the table. You and the others are who saved Albert."

"How'd we do that?"

"According to Race's story, when Albert experiences episodes such as these, he is transported back to a time before he knew any of you."

"Yeah. So?"

"Despite his not knowing who you were then, he knows who you are even during his nightmares. Your friendship, love, and protection have imprinted themselves in his heart, so even though he is terrified, he is not hiding from you because he knows you will not harm him."

"I ain't never thought about it like that before." Crutchie pondered Charles's words for a minute. "So if he knows we ain't gonna hurt him, why don't he come out when we asks him to?"

"Because as much as he trusts you, the fear of Snyder is stronger."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Snyder has the power to not only hurt Albert, but he can hurt you, too."

"Jack, too."

"Yes. To a degree. But I am an adult, so Snyder cannot harm me, therefore, it was easier for him to believe my claim that I would protect Jack and make it possible for him to trust that he would not be harmed if he emerged from where he felt safe. Ultimately, all I really did was give him something to focus on besides the fear."

"What?"

"When he was frightened, all he could think about was how frightened he was and what else was lurking about to frighten him even more. He was paralyzed in his fears. When I promised to protect Jack, Albert could begin to imagine being safe. Jack is his protector, but Snyder can hurt Jack. If, however, Jack is safe from Snyder, then so is Albert. Having him pretend to be a sack of potatoes only gave his mind another point of focus, something relatively humorous, and humor is one of the greatest enemies of fear."

Crutchie yawned. "Really?"

"Indeed."

Crutchie went limp against Charles.

"Would you like to lay down?"

Crutchie shook his head. "No. I wanta do what they's doin'." He pointed at the activity at the table. "But there ain't room for me and my chair, yet, so I'll just rest for a bit. I ain't too heavy for ya?"

Charles chuckled. "No, my dear lad, you are not too heavy."

They watched the goings-on for several minutes before Crutchie finally asked, "What're they doin'?"

"Let's find out, shall we?" Charles raised his voice to be heard over the general ruckus. "Greta, what is it you're concocting this evening? And is there room for one more participant?"

Greta looked over at them and smiled warmly. "We are going to make gingerbread," she announced. "Cinnamon is one of the happiest, most comforting smells, and we all need that right now."

"Indeed, I couldn't agree more."

"Crutchie, dearest, give us just a minute to finish getting things ready and we'll set you up to join in, OK?"

Crutchie grinned and nodded. A minute later, as Charles was getting Crutchie settled at the table, he commented, "Too bad Albert's missin' out. He'd love this!"

Greta froze, then looked around at the boys who, with something fun to do, and the promise of a delicious new treat when it was done, were quickly shedding the effects of their horrific memories.

All except one.

He was asleep.

In another room.

Alone.

"Charles," Greta began.

"I'm already on my way," he told her.

"I want all my boys in here, with me," she continued.

"Your wish shall soon be granted," he promised, his eyes twinkling. "Jack?"

Jack looked up.

"I wonder if you might assist me?"

"Yeah. Sure."

Once in Crutchie's room, Charles shut the door behind them.

"Somethin' wrong?" Jack asked, worried.

"Not at all," Charles assured him. "But I did want to take a moment to commend you on your exceptional leadership of these boys. You are a great source of comfort and hope for them – and were even before your marriage – and there are not many who have the ability to lead as quietly and effectively as you do."

"Whacha mean?"

"Your leadership is guided by respect, concern, and love for those boys. You don't try to tell them what to do; you don't bully or belittle them; and as a result, they naturally look to you. When things are not right, they instinctively know you will make things better. You have proven it to them time and time again, so they accept it as the way things are."

"So?"

"So, they accept that you will protect them because you do it unconditionally, but as grateful as they are, I do not think they are aware of the high cost to you, nor do I think you want them to know."

"I don't know what you's talkin' about."

Charles gently, but firmly grasped Jack's shoulders. "Jack, do not pretend to be less than you are," he admonished sternly. "In doing so, you discredit yourself and the gift you give to those boys."

"What gift?" Jack swiped at his eyes.

"Your guidance, your protection, your love."

Jack rolled his eyes.

Charles smiled, enjoying the glimpse of the young man Jack still was but had not had the freedom to be. "Yes. You love them all, very deeply, though none of you will admit it. But Jack, even the strongest leader needs someone he can lean on from time to time."

Jack scrubbed at his eyes. "Maybe."

"I was not lying or pretending earlier when I told Albert that I will protect you."

"From Snyder," Jack sneered. "He's locked up, ain't he? He can't hurt me." He walked over to gaze into the fire.

"My vow was not conditional," Charles explained. "Whatever the danger or threat, it will have to get through me before I allow it to harass you or anyone in this family. But do not underestimate the likes of Snyder. He may be physically confined, but he is very much an active presence in the lives and minds of us all. Especially you, I think."

"No!" Jack declared. "He's in jail. I don't ever have to see him again!" He pounded his fist on the mantel.

"But you do, don't you?"

"Do what?"

"See him."

"I don't know what you's talkin' about."

Charles moved to stand behind Jack, close enough that Jack knew he was there, but he didn't touch him. "Jack, my protection did not begin today, nor is it limited to the boundaries of this home."

Jack stiffened. "You followed me?"

"I did."

"But how –"

"Miss Katherine is a very sound sleeper. She always has been. So I know you wait until she is sleeping so she won't know you're gone. But that is one of the reasons Pulitzer assigned me to guard her, because I do not sleep very soundly. And guarding her is a task I will always take very seriously. So when I heard her beloved husband sneaking out of the house in the wee hours of the morning, I knew I needed to know his destination."

"Thought I was goin' to see another girl?" Jack snapped sarcastically.

"No. The thought never crossed my mind."

Jack turned. "Really?" he asked in disbelief. "Why else would I be leavin' in the middle of the night?"

"A very good question. One I asked myself several times that first night," Charles confessed. "Jack, your feelings run true and very deep. The reason it never occurred to me that you were lighting out for an illicit romantic affair is because I knew such a notion would never occur to you. The love you have for your wife is almost tangible and you would not besmirch that by meeting another woman."

Jack's eyes got glossy. "I do love her," he declared in a thick whisper. "I do."

"I know. And that is why I had to follow you. Why would a man so in love with his wife leave her side at such an hour?"

Jack stood beside the bed and looked down at Albert, who was sleeping, but restlessly. He held one of Albert's hands and put his other hand on Albert's forehead. He leaned down and quietly said something to Albert, who settled down and slept more soundly.

He stood back up, keeping his gaze on Albert, but told Charles, "The Refuge. It's a pretty big place for all of us. The things that happened there –" He couldn't continue. After a few shuddering breaths, he still couldn't speak. Charles stepped closer, stood behind him, and placed strong, comforting hands on his shoulders. "My pop dreamed of gettin' outta New York. He'd read old papes he found in the trash and look for news from other places, then make up stories 'bout 'em. The last one I remember him talkin' 'bout was Santa Fe. He liked it 'cause of the open skies and land and the sun. He had me all but packin' to get there, but we didn't have money for food, let alone train tickets. Then he died. I kept dreamin' of Santa Fe on account of it helped me keep rememberin' my pop.

"At The Refuge, I could think of Pop and Santa Fe and block out whatever was happenin'. Then I met Kat and she's bigger than Santa Fe ever was for me. But sometimes," he choked back a sob, "sometimes The Refuge is bigger than she is. It happens most at night when everything's dark and still and I ain't got nothin' else to think about. It grows and grows 'til I can't see nothin' else and I can't hardly breathe. That's when I leave. I gots to check and make sure it's still empty and Snyder ain't there to get me or the fellas or anyone else to keep doin' stuff to 'em."

Charles turned Jack around. "I understand, dear boy, I do. Henceforth, you will awaken me before leaving on such missions." His tone brooked no arguments, and Jack gave him none. "Jack."

Jack looked up.

"Protector of all. How long has it been since someone protected you?"

A single tear trickled from Jack's eye.

Charles enveloped Jack in his arms. "You can relax your guard. You are alone no longer in working to keep everyone safe."

Jack held onto Charles tightly while working to get his emotions under control.

There was a soft rapping on the door. Jack tried to pull away, but Charles wouldn't let him. Jack gladly relaxed back into Charles's hold. It had been so long since a man had hugged him like this and he really didn't want to let go quite so soon.

Greta slipped into the room. "Just checking to make sure my boys are well."

"Yeah," Jack said, reluctantly pushing away from Charles, who let him go this time. "Albert's sleepin' pretty good." He wiped at his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve.

"Jack."

He looked at Greta.

She cupped his face in her hands. "Don't think for one minute that you aren't as much one of my boys as any of the others."

Jack's mouth opened and closed a couple of times as he tried to think of what to say. "But..."

"But nothing," Greta insisted. "You may be the head of this household, but you're still my boy. Now, scoot. Your absence is being felt in the kitchen." She shooed him toward the door.

Jack hesitated and looked at the two of them.

"Everything will be just fine," Charles promised. "Go. See to your family."

Jack smiled gratefully then headed down the hall to the kitchen.

Charles rested his hands on Greta's shoulders. "Greta, you are, without a doubt, the most extraordinary woman I have ever met."

"That doesn't say much for the women of your acquaintance if you think I'm something special," she retorted.

He spun her around, bent her back over his arm, and kissed her soundly. As he set her upright again, he bent down to look her directly in the eyes. "It is _because_ you are so special that you outshine every other woman I have ever known." He leaned forward and kissed her again.

She surprised herself by kissing him back. Again.

He stood and walked to the bed. "You know something, Greta?" He scooped Albert into his arms. "I have half a mind to marry you."

She sputtered in disbelief and amazement at his audacity. "What on earth are you talking about?" she finally managed to get out. "Why would you take it in your head to marry me?"

He strode to the door. "Because you love me, too."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Too?"

He walked back to stand before her, allowing his emotions to show in his eyes. "Too," he confirmed softly, lovingly.

"Oh, my," she whispered, mesmerized by his expression.

He leaned over and pecked a kiss on her lips, then said, "Now, please open the door. I'm sure our absence is being felt in the kitchen." He chuckled as she first touched her lips as if not believing she'd just been kissed, then shook it off and bustled after him, her practical self once more.

At the door she stopped and looked up at him. One side of her mouth curled into a smile. "Too," she told him. "I think." She opened the door and hurried to the kitchen, enjoying the sound of his delighted laughter as he followed her.


	16. Chapter 16: Home

Albert slept deeply through the night, barely stirring when Charles moved him upstairs to the room he shared with Race. When he awoke, he found Race sprawled out next to him. He poked his friend, who jumped at the contact, instantly on alert.

"Albert?" he asked cautiously. "You OK?"

"Yeah, I's OK. Why're ya here and not in your own bed?"

"You got twitchy in the night."

"What're ya talkin'...'bout?" As he asked, it came to him. "Oh, god," he groaned. "It happened again, didn't it?" He covered his face with his hands.

"Yeah," Race confirmed. "But it weren't so bad as before."

"Whacha mean?" Albert peeked at Race between his fingers.

Race recounted the events of the previous evening. "...and then Charles told ya you was a sack of potatoes and carried ya outta there, and you slept after that. Only lasted 'bout an hour if I had to guess."

"Potatoes?"

"Yup," Race grinned at the memory. "It were the darndest thing, but it worked. Then Greta let us all make some gingerbread 'cause we was all in a bad way like we is whenever we thinks 'bout that place, 'cause she said that cinnamon is the happiest smell."

"Ya made gingerbread?"

"Yup, and it's some good stuff, too, let me tell ya. Hey, you's OK, why's ya lookin' so sad?"

"I don't know how to make gingerbread," Albert wailed softly.

"Ya don't know –" Race repeated, then burst into laughter, pulling his friend into a hug and knuckle-rubbing his head. "I guess you's gonna be OK after all, if you's frettin' only 'bout cookin'!"

Five heads appeared at the door, curious about their friend and the high spirits.

"Hey, Albert, how ya doin'?" ventured Specs, leading the others into the room.

"OK, I guess."

His friends surrounded him, sitting on the bed or leaning against the footboard.

"Is ya still feelin' jittery?"

"Does ya feel sick?"

"Why was Race laughin'?"

"What'd ya do with Arthur?"

The questions flew at him all at once and he just looked blankly from one face to another until Romeo popped out from under the bed and dropped something in Albert's lap. He looked at it. "What's this?"

"It's Arthur," Romeo told him in a voice that said 'who else would it be?'.

"Arthur," Albert whispered holding up the toy mouse by the tail. He looked at Race, who nodded to confirm it.

"Yeah. You always fret 'bout Arthur gettin' left behind, and we always just pretend you gots him. But yesterday we had a real one to give ya."

"He kept the bad dreams away," Romeo explained. "That's why you's feelin' so good now, 'stead a still kinda loopy like the last time."

Albert hugged the toy close. "Arthur," he said softly, "he was my –"

"Best friend!" everyone finished with him before dissolving into laughter.

When it died down, they heard someone say, "Well, sounds like everyone in here's feelin' OK this mornin'."

Jack was standing at the door smiling at them. He walked in and they made room for him to get to Albert. He put his hands on Albert's shoulders and leaned in to look into Albert's eyes. "How're ya feelin'?"

Albert shrugged. "OK, I guess."

"Yeah?"

Albert nodded.

"Good."

"He can't be feelin' too bad," Race announced, "he's cryin' 'cause he didn't get to make no gingerbread."

Everyone dissolved into laughter once more.

Kat walked in just then, hair in a ponytail, wrapped in Jack's robe. "Do I hear happiness in here?"

Their volume lowered a notch or two, but their spirits did not as they greeted her.

"Yeah, we's happy," Finch told her. "Albert's bein' funny."

She grinned and squeezed Finch's shoulder. "I'm glad to hear it." She touched hands, arms, and shoulders as she made her way to where Albert was sitting.

"Hi, Mare," he said with a wavery smile.

She cupped his face with her hands. "Good morning," she said gently, smiling at him. "How are you feeling?"

"OK," a single tear trickled down his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked in mild concern.

"Is I gonna have to leave?"

"What!" she gasped, taken aback. "What ever put such a notion in your head?"

Jack pulled her back. "Fellas?" He got the attention of all the newsies.

"Yeah, Jack?"

"Soak him."

No one moved, but a couple of the fellas had a hard time hiding their smiles.

"What?" Albert squeaked.

"Ya asks a stupid question like that, ya gets soaked."

Albert looked between Jack and Kat, confusion intermingled with hope. His expression gave way to relief as Kat broke free of Jack's hold and she lightly punched her husband's shoulder.

"Talk about stupid –" she punched him again, then turned and said, "Fellas. Soak _him_." She pointed her thumb at Jack over her shoulder as she went to sit on the bed beside Albert.

With a roar of delight, four newsies converged on Jack. Race stayed on the bed with Albert and Kat. They watched the playful roughhousing, with Race occasionally belting out bits of advice. Kat wrapped her arms around Albert, who rested his head on her shoulder.

A few minutes later, the scuffle on the floor ended, with Jack decidedly _not_ the victor, with the newsies pinning down both his arms and both his legs. He laughed as the tried to catch his breath. "OK, fellas. I give up. Let me up."

With cheers of triumph, they let him go. Elmer extended a hand to help Jack sit up.

Jack grinned at him and Finch, both of whom had pinned his legs. He lightly punched Specs's shoulder, and wrapped an arm around Romeo's neck to pull him in to knuckle-rub his head. "You guys put up a pretty good fight," he declared, still breathing hard, "but I'd'a had ya all in a minute or two."

"No way!" they all burst into protests and discussions of strategies and tactics used in the four-to-one battle.

As their chatter died down, Jack got their attention once more. "Fellas?"

"Yeah, Jack?"

"Ya know how Kat tells ya every night that you's safe here?"

"Yeah."

"I don't always say it, but I means it right along with her. You _is_ safe here – and not just from anythin' comin' to get ya. You's safe from havin' to leave." He looked around at the boys. "If you ever wanta leave, you can. You ain't prisoners here. But no one here'll ever tell you to go or kick ya out." He looked at Albert. "No matter what. And if ya leave, you can always come back. That's what home is." He looked in the faces of the boys he considered his brothers, and his son. "We's all had some pretty bad stuff happen to us, so we might all of us have some bad days, but I don't want none of ya thinkin' a bad day is gonna have ya sleepin' on the streets again. We's a family, and families stick together, no matter what."

"OK, Jack."

"I just wanted that out there so ya knows and don't ask no more stupid questions," he grinned cheekily at Albert, who blushed.

"I kinda knowed ya wasn't gonna make me go, but somethin' made me ask anyway," he confessed.

"Yeah, I gets it," Jack assured him. "But now all of ya knows, so that's one less thing to worry 'bout. Got it?"

"Yeah, OK, Jack."

"Pop?"

Jack looked down at Romeo.

"Does Crutchie know?"

"Good question. How's 'bout you fellas help me up, then go tell Crutchie he ain't goin' nowhere, neither."

* * *

Downstairs, as the fellas were regaling a rudely awakened Crutchie with details of the "fight" with Jack and his promises of safety, Albert snuck out of the room and down the hall. He hovered at the kitchen door, peeking in to see Greta working at the stove. He tried to go in, but his courage left him. He took a deep breath and tried again. His feet just wouldn't move. He peered around the doorway again. Maybe Greta would see him and come get him. But she was stirring something at the stove – oh, he hoped it was oatmeal! – and her back was to him. What was she gonna think of him after what happened yesterday? She needed him to be a good assistant and he couldn't even go in the cellar to get potatoes!

"Is there a problem, Albert?" Charles asked behind him.

Albert squeaked in alarm. "N-no?" his response lacked any confidence at all.

Charles wrapped an arm around Albert. "There is nothing to fear, my boy."

"B-but what if she –"

"Shall we find out?" Charles interrupted. He tightened his hold on Albert so he was forced to walk with him into the kitchen. "Greta, my dear, there is someone here to see you."

Greta shook off the spoon she was using and placed it in a bowl beside the stove before she turned around. Her eyes widened when she saw Albert.

"Greta, I's so sorry –" he began, wringing his hands in worry, looking absolutely miserable.

"Albert!" she exclaimed in delight before he could get any further. She bustled across the room, pulling him into her arms, kissing the top of his head. She leaned back, studying his face, cradling it in her hands. "My boy! My darling boy! Are you OK? How are you feeling? Are you hungry? What can I get for you? Albert?" She stopped when she saw tears trickling from his eyes. "Albert, honey, what's wrong?"

"I thought you's gonna be mad at me."

"Why on earth would I be mad at you?"

"'Cause I didn't get the potatoes?"

"Oh, baby," she pulled him in for a tight hug, tucking his head under her chin. "Don't you worry a bit about that. You're more important than any potatoes." She rocked him in her arms as he held on to her and sobbed tears of fright for what happened and tears fo relief that it was over and no one, especially Greta, was mad at him. As his sobs slowed down, she pulled back and brushed at his face with the corner of his apron. "There now, you see? It's not so bad. Feeling better?"

He nodded and gave her a wobbly smile. Then he remembered something and his chin wobbled again.

"What's wrong, angel?"

"I didn't get to make no gingerbread."

Charles roared with laughter, causing everyone else to spill into the kitchen to see what was up. Specs and Jack had maneuvered Crutchie into his chair so he could join the group. Greta surveyed the crowd, all of whom were still in their bedclothes. With Albert still tucked in her arms, she declared, "I don't care what you had planned today, you can just forget it. I want all of my boys here with me today."

"Me, too, mama?" Annie queried.

Charles pulled her close. "That goes without saying, young miss."

She giggled and relaxed against him.

"Greta, we'd sure love to stay..." Jack waved his hand between himself and Kat.

Greta shook her head at him. "Work calls. I understand. But if you weren't working..." she looked at him in mock threat.

He held up his hands. "I knows. I'd be here. Trust me, I'd be here."

She waggled a finger at him, then called everyone to the table for breakfast.

Jack grabbed Kat's hand. "Uh, me and Kat's gotta get ready for work," he explained, backing them both out the door. "We'll be down in a bit."

Greta flashed him a knowing smile. "See that you are," she teased. She looked around, "Boys, you know what to do. Hop to it! Romeo, make sure you get the milk from the icebox."

While the youngster's back was to the door, Greta silently shooed his parents away.

They didn't linger.


	17. Chapter 17: Caged Memories

The four people on the sidewalk viewed the building before them in very different ways.

To Romeo, it was a promise of learning new things so he could be smart like his ma and pop and do things besides sell papes. He was often frustrated at his lack of skills and wanted to learn absolutely everything.

For Annie, it was confinement; a dull, dreary way to spend several hours each day. Mopping floors at home was more fun than this place, though she was learning that most everything was fun when it involved the boys she was coming to think of as her brothers.

Kat saw the building as imposing and impersonal, lacking any charm or character. For her, it most assuredly did not seem a place where learning might ever be fun. She'd had a governess and tutors until she'd been sent to finishing school, where the parties, frolics, and good times all but disguised the learning. No. This place was not inclined to frolic, she thought, hugging Romeo closer. The lady behind the front desk had been pleasant enough when Kat had dropped in a week or so ago to see how to get Romeo enrolled, but no one had been smiling. There had been no idle chatter, no sounds of happiness at all. No one was rude, mean, or _un_ pleasant, but neither did anyone volunteer anything that wasn't expressly asked for, which Kat thought was odd.

Jack couldn't look at it. Even when they walked Annie to school, he never lifted his eyes above the top of the front door. The large brick box was several stories shorter than – ... but it had the same feeling about it. Jack was not happy with the idea of leaving Romeo here, but it's what the kid wanted, so Jack kept his misgivings to himself. Mostly. Kat's eyes didn't miss much about her husband, but she understood – or thought she did – and didn't press him. No. She just held on to him tighter, helping keep him anchored in this world.

Kat took a breath. "Well, shall we go in?"

Jack tried. He really did. But his feet wouldn't move. Damn it! He willed himself forward but could not move his paralyzed limbs. He hated this. He needed to be strong for Romeo, show him there was nothing to be afraid of.

"Jack?"

He looked at his wife.

"Jack, I don't want to be late for work. Would you mind getting the flowers from that shop on the corner while I walk Romeo in?"

He just looked at her.

"Jack?" She caressed his cheek.

He breathed once more, pulling her close, needing to feel her in his arms, chasing away the remnants of his fear.

"Pop?"

"Yeah?"

"Whacha need flowers for work for?"

Jack smiled and gave Kat a quick squeeze. Trust Romeo to jump straight to the heart of things. He released Kat but held on to her hand. "Uhhh..."

"Someone we work with has been ill, so we're going to send her some flowers," Kat explained.

"Oh. Can we go in, now?"

"Sure, squirt." Jack knelt down and hugged Romeo. "Have a good time today."

Romeo beamed. "I will."

Jack stood. "I'll see ya tonight." He ruffled Romeo's hair.

"OK," Romeo headed up the sidewalk beside Annie.

"You'll probably be downstairs for a while so they can figure out how much you know," Annie was telling him. "I'm upstairs in room 208..." her voice trailed off as they walked away.

Jack watched them go. "I'm sorry I can't –" he began, but Kat cut him off with gentle fingers placed over his mouth.

"I love you, Jack Kelly."

He looked at her, and the love and understanding in her eyes and expression was so powerful, he could've cried. But he didn't. He took her hand in his and gave her a quick kiss.

"Go. Flowers. Now," she shooed him away with a smile. "I'll meet you there in a few minutes."

He nodded, gave her hand a squeeze, and trotted across the street to the store.

* * *

Kat and Jack got home that evening prepared for a never-ending stream of excited chatter about Romeo's first day of school. Everyone, it seemed, was in the kitchen. Albert, Race, and Finch were helping Greta with dinner preparations at the stove and counter. Specs and Elmer were washing dishes. Crutchie and Charles were playing chess near the fire. Annie and Romeo were at the table playing checkers. The atmosphere was cozy and the conversation was lively.

"Hey, everyone! How's it goin'?" Jack greeted the room as he helped Kat out of her coat.

Warm greetings echoed back to him and Kat from around the kitchen.

They headed to Romeo. "Hey, squirt," Jack ruffled Romeo's hair. "Did ya have a good day?"

Romeo shrugged and made a move in the checkers game.

Jack chuckled and went to chat with Crutchie and Charles.

Kat sat next to Romeo and watched him make another move then grimaced playfully as Annie took the rest of his remaining pieces with four jumps. Annie crowed in triumph. Romeo hugged his fire cat but said nothing. Greta called Annie to help with dinner.

Kat cleaned up the game, keeping an eye on the unusually subdued Romeo. "How was your day, sweetie?"

Romeo shrugged.

"Did you make any friends?"

"Nope."

"Do you have any homework?"

"Nope."

"Tell me about your teacher."

"He's OK, I guess."

"Romeo, sweetie, look at me."

Romeo's expression was one of abject misery, his eyes glassy with tears he had not yet had the courage to shed.

"Oh, sweetie," Kat crooned sympathetically, "come here." She pulled him up onto her lap, where he curled into her and quietly sobbed into his fire cat's fur. She wrapped him tightly in her arms and rested her head on his, forming a cocoon of safety around him. "Oh, baby, it's OK," she gently assured him. "First days can be so hard, can't they?" She continued her soft chatter for several minutes until he calmed down.

Jack caught her eye from across the room and silently asked if she needed him. She shook her head to let him know she had it under control. He nodded and stayed where he was, but kept a watchful eye on his wife and son.

Romeo clung to Kat or Jack for the rest of the day and didn't say much. No one thought anything about it, chalking it up to a hard first day of a new routine.

One night, a week later, Jack was too agitated to sleep, so he got dressed and headed downstairs. He looked for a snack, but he wasn't hungry. He was too restless to draw or read. He didn't have the patience to work on Union business. He checked on Crutchie, who was sleeping soundly, then returned to the kitchen. He stared blankly out the window for a long while, but got cold, so he moved to sit next to the waning warmth still emanating from the embers in the fireplace. He felt rather than heard Charles join him. He wasn't surprised. He'd been expecting it, looking forward to it, actually. It felt good not to have to have all the answers all the time anymore.

Charles sat and watched Jack. Neither said anything, but something was obviously bothering Jack, judging from the way he couldn't sit still. Finally Charles said, "We should walk."

Jack bolted from his chair and was in his coat and out the door almost before Charles could stand up.

They walked in silence down the back alley and while the activity did seem to help, Jack was still restless, kicking at rocks, trailing his fingers along railings and walls, walking a few steps ahead of Charles, then circling back around beside him. Halfway down the next block, Charles asked, "What's on your mind?"

"I don't know!" Jack blurted out as if he'd been waiting for an invitation to speak. "I don't know what it is! But there's somethin' that won't shut up or let me sleep or anythin'. It's been gettin' worse every night and tonight I just couldn't settle down. How d'ya figure out what's wrong with ya when your brain won't shut off?"

They had gone another block or so while Jack was talking, but he had stopped walking and was now pacing.

Charles took in their surroundings and when Jack stopped, he said, "I think you know what the problem is."

"What? How –"

Charles pointed.

Jack turned and gasped. "Romeo."

"More than likely."

The hulking black shadow of Romeo's school loomed across the street.

"I don't get it, Charles." Jack couldn't take his eyes off the building. "He ain't said much since his first day, and not a word all weekend. That ain't like him."

"No."

"There's somethin' wrong in there."

"Perhaps."

"Kat don't see it. She's plenty worried 'bout Romeo, but thinks he just needs a...a...whatchacallit, a 'period of adjustment'." Jack started pacing again, throwing scathing looks at the haunting shadow of the school. "I ain't so sure, though."

"What do you think it could be?"

"Dunno. Kat's really smart, so maybe I should just leave it alone for a bit?"

"There are many types of intelligence. Do not make the mistake of thinking yourself any less smart than Katherine simply because her education was more formal than yours. Your intuition and instincts have served you well for many years."

"Yeah."

"What is your instinct telling you now?"

"This ain't good. Somethin' ain't right."

"You are Romeo's father. You must do whatever is necessary in order for him to be safe."

"It's just so weird. He weren't even like this after I got him away from Tippy Mac and his goons and they was plenty mean to him." He paced a few more steps. "Only time I ever knowed him to stop talkin' was –" He stopped. He looked up at the school. He doubled over as if he'd just been punched. "Oh, god," he heaved, gasping for air that just couldn't get to his lungs.

Charles was instantly at Jack's side. "Jack! Jack! Calm down!"

"Can't...What're...they...doin'...to him...in there?"

"We don't know," Charles calmly told Jack. "We cannot know until tomorrow, so you need to calm down. You will not be any help to Romeo in this condition."

"...How?...Can't...breathe..."

Charles knelt in front of Jack and held his head. "Jack. Look at me. That's it. Focus on my forehead. Now. Slowly. Breathe in. Good. Now. Breathe out."

It took several minutes, but Jack eventually got his breathing under control. He collapsed against Charles. "How'm I gonna fix it?" he asked weakly.

"My dear boy, have you not figured it out by now? _You_ are not going to fix anything."

Jack stiffened and tried to pull away, but Charles just tightened his hold. " _We_ – you, me, Greta, and Katherine – are going to work this out together. You are not alone any longer. You are part of a family, and families work together to protect each other."

Jack's fists clutched Charles's shirt and Charles felt his shoulder dampen as Jack silently fought his emotions. With a shudder and a deeply drawn breath, Jack won the battle and relaxed once more against Charles. "I miss my ma and pop so much," he confessed in a hoarse whisper. "I wish they was still here."

"Ah, but they are," Charles told him. "I never had the pleasure of meeting them, but I see them every day."

Jack pulled back. "Whacha mean?"

Charles stood and pulled Jack up and headed them back to Kelly House. "You, my dear boy, are the living embodiment of your parents' love."

"How?"

"You love the way you were loved. You love the way you saw it happen." Charles looked fondly down at Jack. "Every time you interact with the boys, I can see your parents' influence on you. With every word, action, encouragement, and smile, I can see how your parents treated you: with love and respect, teaching you kindness and compassion. Their love for you is evident in your love for the boys.

"And when you're with Katherine, I swear there are moments when I can feel their presence."

"Really?" Jack whispered in wonder.

"Indeed. The way you look at her, hold her, show your affection for her...It is quite apparent that your parents were very much in love with each other and not afraid to express their love in front of their son."

They'd reached Kelly House by now and were sitting on the front steps. "Yeah," Jack said with a smile, his eyes locked on a distant memory. "I asked Pop once if we was poor. Ya know what he said? He said, 'Well, son, it all depends on how ya looks at it. If ya count the money we have, then, yeah, some would say we's poor. But what they don't know is I's the richest man in the world 'cause I gots your ma and you to love. Ain't no one can put a price on that!' Then he picked me up and swung me around, singin', 'I's the luckiest man, it's true, it's true, 'Cause I gots you and Annabelle Sue!'" He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve. "It maybe weren't the best song ever, but I loved it when he sung it."

"That's all that matters."

"Later, Pop added Eddie's name to it, and I liked it even more."

"Of course you did."

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes before Jack choked on a sob he just couldn't hold in. "I still miss them so bad," he whispered.

"Of course you do," Charles tucked Jack into his side.

Jack hid his face in Charles's shoulder and once more fought his feelings. When he had won the fight again, he wiped at his face, but remained in Charles's embrace. "Used to be I didn't like to go to Davey's house. His folks're a lot like mine was and it hurt to see what I was missin'. Then I got Kat and it didn't hurt quite so bad. I never told her 'bout my folks, not 'til the night the fellas brung Crutchie, but she seemed to know." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "She always seems to know. Even if I don't tell her nothin'. How's she do that?"

"She loves you."

"She does. I ain't figured out why, though. But she does. Still, there's this part of me what keeps expectin' her to up and leave me one day."

"Of course there is."

"What?" Jack was surprised.

"It's no great mystery. You were raised in a home filled with love. Your family had very little means, but it was a happy, loving family nonetheless. Then, in the span of just over a year, they left you."

"They died. They didn't leave me."

"Didn't they?"

Jack pondered this in silence for a minute or two.

Charles continued. "The reasons for or methods of their departures are irrelevant. The fact remains that one day you had them and the next day you did not." Charles gave Jack a squeeze. "My dear boy, losing an entire family in such a short span of time is a burden not many adults can bear; _you_ were a mere slip of a boy, only eight or nine, and suddenly very much alone and on your own. So very many things could have happened, but you chose to hold on to your parents' love and find a way to surround yourself with a family once again.

"What you need to do is bring your parents back into your life. It may ease your fear of being abandoned if you do."

"How do I do that?" Jack asked in a heavy whisper, silent tears streaming down his face, unchecked.

"Remember them. Bring them to life with your stories and drawings. Describe the things you liked to do or places you liked to go with them. Believe it or not, talking about them will make it easier to bear their loss."

"How's that work?"

"I don't exactly understand it, but I figure it's like most anything else: if you keep it contained, it grows and festers and becomes hard to handle. But if you let it free, it has more room to move around and you don't have to work so hard to keep it in control any longer."

"Yeah. Kat said somethin' like that once."

"She is quite wise for one so young."

They sat together for another few minutes before Charles spoke once more. "I fear I am quite cold, my boy. Shall we adjourn inside?"

"Yeah. I's cold, too. But –"

"Yes?"

"I dunno. It's different somehow. When it's dark out, I mean."

"The darkness and stillness of the hour can lend a feeling of nearly magical safety, can't they?" Charles reached into his pocket for his keys and unlocked the front door. Once they were safely inside, Charles looked at Jack. "My advice to you would be to share your concerns about Romeo with Katherine, let her know how you're feeling about your parents, and express anything else on your mind."

"But she's asleep."

"Wake her up. She would not be happy to learn you were suffering alone. She loves you."

"She does, don't she?"

Charles nodded, gave Jack's shoulder a squeeze, then a gentle push toward the stairs.

On the bottom stair, Jack turned. "She won't think I's weak or stupid?"

"Hers is a caring soul. Let her care for you."

Jack's expression lightened somewhat. "Yeah. Thanks, Charles." He bolted up the stairs, but quietly, so as not to wake anyone.

Charles smiled, locked the door, then made for the kitchen, where he knew Greta would be waiting with a pot of fresh coffee.

* * *

Jack lay in bed and stared at Kat for several minutes. He wondered if he would ever stop marveling at her presence in his life. Probably not. He felt something when he was with her, a sort of peace inside himself, a sense that even when things were all screwed up that everything really would be OK. Sort of like how he felt with his ma when he was a kid. Only bigger. Probably because he was bigger now and so was his world. But that world was rocking wildly at the moment, and he needed her to steady things like only she could. He curled up next to her, hoping that would help and he wouldn't have to wake her up. It didn't work. He needed to feel her arms around him. Needed to hear her say everything would be OK. That she still loved him no matter what.

Hating to wake her, but needing her more, he gently shook her. It took a few tries, but eventually she stumbled into waking. "Kat?" he whispered.

"What? Hmmm?" She turned and saw Jack's rear-ravaged face and was instantly alert. "Jack!" She sat up. "What happened? What's wrong? Who's hurt? Sick?" She ran her hands over his face, head, and shoulders, checking for injuries.

"No one. Everyone's fine," he choked back a sob.

She cradled his face in her hands and looked into his eyes. She didn't understand what was going on, but she loved him. He could see it there, in her eyes. "Jack. Tell me what's wrong."

"I miss my folks," he just barely managed to get out before he collapsed into violent sobs.

"Oh, my sweet, darling Jack, of course you do," she said as she wrapped him in her arms as tightly as she could. She rocked him and combed her fingers through his hair as he finally let go of years of grief. She crooned soft reassurances, letting him know she was there for him, she loved him, and that everything was going to be just fine.

When at last his tears were spent, he lay, exhausted, curled around her, his head tucked against her shoulder. Softly, in a voice thick with crying and interspersed with shuddering breaths and hiccups, he began talking. He told her how it had felt to lose his family members, one-by-one; how it felt to be suddenly on his own and so very terribly lonely. He described learning to sell papers, meeting Crutchie and the others, meeting her. He expressed his concerns about Romeo and the school. He touched on The Refuge but was not able to cross that particular bridge, though he did tell her of his midnight walks with Charles.

Through it all, Kat remained silent, letting him talk, get it all off his chest and out of his mind. She asked no questions; simply accepted what he was offering as the tremendous gift that it was.

When at last he wound down, sunlight was peeking around the edges of the curtains. With one last shudder, he slipped into the deep sleep of the emotionally exhausted, still clinging to her.

She continued to hold him, silent tears streaming down her face. She kissed the top of his head. Her heart was broken for him, for all that he'd endured since his family had died, and that he'd had to keep it buried for so long. She was glad, so very glad, that he'd chosen to share his burden with her. She hoped it would help ease his nightmares and erase some of the shadows she sometimes saw in his expression.

Eventually she dozed for a little while, but it wasn't a deep sleep and the sounds of the boys in the hallway woke her. She eased out from under her still deeply sleeping husband and got ready for the day. Everyone was pleasantly surprised to see her up and about so early, but concerned that Jack wasn't up, too.

"He's fine," she assured them all as she took her seat next to Romeo and reached for a slice of toast. "He just had a really bad night."

"He ain't sick?" one of the boys asked.

She shook her head. "No, nothing like that. He got hit really hard with some old memories and..." she shuddered.

The boys all nodded sympathetically.

"He tell 'em to ya?" Race asked.

She nodded. "He described a great deal."

"So ya knows now?"

"I suppose," she drawled uncertainly. "Why?"

"Jack didn't really want us talkin' 'bout it 'cept amongst ourselves. But if ya knows, I guess it's OK if ya hears us talkin'."

"Oh, Jack," Kat whispered in despair. She looked helplessly at Charles.

"Ever the protector," he reminded her softly.

She nodded and gave Romeo a squeeze.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Charles's voice commanded the attention of everyone in the room. "A wild animal trapped in a cage does not become docile; it becomes wilder and less manageable in its desperation to free itself. I understand why you, and Jack, feel the need to keep certain memories buried and silent, but, boys, those memories are like wild animals trapped inside your minds. The longer they remain confined, the harder it will be to control them. You must let them go in order to be free of their hold over you."

"How d'we do that?" Specs inquired.

"Stop trying to hide them or hide from them. You cannot change what happened, but if you talk about it, then you share the burden, making it lighter for yourself. You think to protect us, and that is commendable; I thank you for your consideration, but I assure you, we can handle the things you have to say."

"But what if you gets angry?" Race wanted to know.

"Race, dearest, we won't be mad at _you_ ; we'll be upset at what happened _to_ you." Greta explained.

"How's that?" Race asked.

"You were pretty angry the night you brought Crutchie here," Greta told him.

"Yeah. One of my best friends got soaked real good. 'Course I was mad!"

"Were you mad at Crutchie for getting hurt?"

"No! How could I? Weren't his fault some thugs decided to jump him in a alley and beat him senseless. I was mad at _them_ for doin' what they done to him!"

"Mmm-hmm," Greta prodded with an expectant smile.

"What's that mean?" he scowled. Then his mind started making sense of things. "Oh." His brow furrowed as he thought it through, then cleared as he figured it out. "Oh!" He smiled in understanding.

"Exactly," Greta confirmed. "We may react with anger at what you tell us, but we will not be angry at _you_ ; we will be upset that such wonderfully kind and lovable boys had to endure whatever you went through, and that we can't go back to change it for you."

"But we _can_ listen and help you to make sense of things," Charles reiterated. "So, from this point forward, you are free to share or discuss anything that might be on your mind. You are helping no one by suppressing your memories."

Remembering Albert's reaction after his experience in the cellar, Kat added, "And nothing you tell us will change how we feel about you or make us want you to leave."

"Quite right," Charles confirmed. "This is your home, now. And home is a place where you should feel safe, no matter what, and a place where you will always be welcome."

"Indeed," Greta confirmed. "Now, who's ready for seconds?"

A chorus of affirmatives sounded from around the table as Greta and Albert served up some more breakfast.

"Ya means we don't gotta tell ya nothin' right now?" Elmer asked Charles.

"By all means, if you've something on your mind at this moment, feel free to share. But what we really intended is for you to know that if you remember something – be they good memories or bad – you are free to share your story, tell us what happened, or ask questions. You do not have to protect us from what happened to you."

"Oh. OK."

"Remember, too, that the weight of darkness can cause the worst of memories to appear to be larger than they are, so you are never to hesitate to wake me if you feel the need."

"Uh...OK?"

Kat giggled. "All he means is that things can seem scariest in the middle of the night, so you can wake him up if you need to."

"OK. Got it."

"Good to know."

"Will someone pass the jam?"

"In fact," Kat continued, "you can wake any of us up if you need to."

Greta nodded her agreement.

"What about work?"

" _You_ are much more important than work," Kat assured them. "And Jack and I don't work in a factory with set hours, so we have some flexibility. So don't worry about us. If you need us, we're here for you."

"Nice."

"OK."

"Greta, is there more eggs?"


	18. Chapter 18: School Dazed

**NOTE: This was a difficult chapter to write because I knew I wanted to describe what happened to the boys at The Refuge, but I didn't want to go into detail. I went round and round with it and just couldn't figure out how to get it done. Then an unlikely hero stepped in and let me do things the way they needed to be done - getting the idea across but without actually having to describe anything in great detail.**

 **That being said, this chapter does contain elements that might be disturbing to some readers, with references to child abuse, both physical and sexual, but no descriptions of such things happening in the moment. It was hard for me to write, because I don't like to think that such things happen to anyone, much less children, but reality proves otherwise. And as rampant as such things are today, I feel that in the past, it might have been just as prevalent but so much easier to either hide or ignore. I apologize in advance for any discomfort you may feel reading parts of this story, but I hope that the overall message comes through: that family is family and they love each other no matter what circumstances may throw at them; that no matter what may happen, there's always love and hope and the support of your family.**

 **Thanks for reading, even through the difficult parts!**

* * *

Jack stumbled into the kitchen shortly after breakfast. He sat at the table and rubbed his eyes. "Damn! My face feels like I slept on sandpaper."

Greta chuckled and handed him a cup of coffee.

"Where is everyone?" he asked.

Charles rambled off everyone's locations. "The boys are tidying things upstairs. Crutchie's trying to figure out how to tackle the Union papers in your office, and Katherine walked Annie and Romeo to school on her way to work. Don't worry," he added as a touch of worry cast a shadow on Jack's face. "Race went with them, and Katherine was to make your excuses at work."

Jack relaxed somewhat, but still looked slightly concerned. "I still ain't sure 'bout that school."

"Then we will investigate it," Charles told him calmly, "just as soon as you are ready to go."

"I's ready now," Jack declared.

"No," Greta stopped him from standing. "An empty stomach will only make things worse." She set a plate of food in front of him. "Eat. It won't take long."

Jack growled, but did as he was told. He was just about done when Race walked in the back door, a strange expression on his face. "Ya just now gettin' back from takin' Kat to work?"

"No. Yeah. I means, we was too early for school to start, so we all walked with Mare to work, then I took the other two back to school. Then I hung around after droppin' 'em off, and Jack, I just ain't sure 'bout that school."

Jack was instantly alert. "Whacha mean?"

"The place is damn ugly to start with and near 'bout seems to swallow them kids whole when they walks in. And none of 'em was smilin'. I means, a few of 'em was playin' out front, but mostly they was standin' around in little groups actin' all nervous, like someone's 'bout to grab 'em or somethin'. And, Jack," his voice cracked, "no one talked to Romeo. He tried to join one of the groups, but they moved away from him, so he sat on the steps by hisself. I know he was scared 'cause he pulled his fire cat outta his bag and held on to it 'til two thugs seen him – I'd swear they was Delanceys, they look just like Oscar and Morris, only littler – and started pickin' on him for havin' a doll at school. Then one of 'em picks him up by the front of his shirt and drops him. 'Course he dropped the fire cat when that happened, so they took it. When he tried to get it back, they pushed him back down into some mud.

"Then the bell rung and everyone walked past him, not helpin' him up, and they kicked around his bag 'til everythin' spilled out and it got all tore up. Couple more kids pushed him when he stood up and laughed at him, sayin' showin' up for school such a dirty, torn up mess was a surefire way to get sent to the principal's office, but seein' as how he'd spent so much time there already, it was prob'ly where he'd rather be. When all the kids was inside, I went in, too. Found the principal's office, and –" his voice cracked again, "– and –" he looked desperately around the room.

Greta moved to stand behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Tell us the rest, dearest," she encouraged gently. "We're here. Nothing will happen to you."

Race swiped at his eyes, his gaze locked with Jack's. "It ain't me I's worried 'bout."

"Tell me," Jack growled.

"I – I found the office. I didn't see no one. But, Jack. The smell – "

"No."

"Yeah."

"What smell?" asked Greta.

Still watching Jack, Race told her. "It smelled like cigarettes and lavender."

With a roar of primal rage, Jack exploded out of his seat and sailed through the kitchen door, pushing the table out of his way as he went. He was only halfway down the alley when he got tackled from behind. He struggled to get free with the strength born of intense fury, but his captor was not only stronger, but an accomplished fighter. In moments, Charles had Jack's arms pinned behind him and one arm hooked loosely around Jack's neck.

Still in the throes of red-hot rage, Jack struggled, ordering Charles to let him go.

Charles ignored him, instead forcing Jack back into the kitchen where an astounded Greta and a gaggle of wide-eyed newsies awaited them. He tried relaxing his hold on Jack, but felt him start to bolt, so he kept Jack and instead told Greta, "Call Pulitzer and tell him to bring Katherine and a staff lawyer immediately."

Greta nodded and hurried into the office to do as he instructed.

Charles looked at the boys. "Do not be alarmed," he told them. "Jack is upset at something that might possibly be happening at the school –"

"Ain't no 'possibly' about it'," Jack growled. "It _is_ happenin', so let me go!" he began struggling again.

"– and is too wound up to be smart about it, so I'm keeping him here until he can calm down," Charles finished as if Jack hadn't spoken.

"Let me go! Ain't nothin' wrong with wantin' to soak the bastard what's hurtin' my family!"

The newsies looked between Jack and Charles in silent confusion.

Greta returned. "Pulitzer's on the way," she announced.

"Good."

"What's goin' on?" Specs finally asked.

"Perhaps Race can supply the details as I don't know them and Jack is unable to at the moment."

Everyone looked at Race, who filled them in on his observations of the morning. "And I didn't see no one in the office, but I smelled somethin' – " his voice cracked again.

"What?" Elmer asked in a scared whisper. "What was it?"

"Umm...it was, um," he cast sad eyes in Elmer's direction, hating what he had to say, "It was, um, cigarettes and lavender."

Elmer whimpered and sank to the floor.

Albert knelt beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "You's safe here," he reminded a trembling Elmer. "See? Jack's fightin' mad 'bout Romeo. He'll keep you safe, too."

"Of course we'll keep you safe," came Kat's reassurance from the doorway. Jack started bellowing at her to get Charles to let him go. She ignored her husband and went to kneel in front of Elmer.

"Mare," he whimpered as he fell against her.

She hugged him tightly. "Dear, sweet boy," she soothed, "everything will be just fine. You'll see."

"But it's a evil man at that school doin' stuff to Romeo."

She pulled back to look at him. "But he's not doing stuff to _you_ anymore. And he never will." She looked around at the group of frightened boys. "We're going to get Romeo and bring him back here, where he'll be safe and no one will ever hurt him, or any of you, ever again."

"How ya gonna do that?"

She pointed behind her. "With the help of my father."

"Pulitzer?" the boys all looked at their former nemesis in astonishment. "He's gonna help us?"

Pulitzer stepped forward. "I am. I do not hold with anyone harming a member of my family. My daughter considers you to be her family; therefore, by extension," he cleared his throat, "you are my family, as well," he finished on a less certain note.

The boys just stared at him.

"If we could get this...ruffian," Pulitzer indicated a still snarling Jack, "to collect himself, we could take care of this matter that much sooner."

Kat gave Elmer one more quick squeeze then went to stand in front of her husband, still bound in Charles's hold.

"Kat, tell this...this...tell him to let go a me! We gotta get to Romeo, I tell ya!"

Kat slapped him.

Charles let him go.

Jack fell to his knees.

Pulitzer, Charles, and Greta chuckled softly.

The newsies looked on in open-mouthed astonishment.

"What the hell'd ya do that for?" Jack griped, cradling his stinging cheek.

"Because you, husband dear, are being a complete ass."

Pulitzer, Charles, and Greta were suddenly taken by fits of coughing.

Race's cigar fell, unheeded, to the floor.

"But –"

"Nope," Kat cut him off, holding her hand up. "You've said quite enough for the moment. Now you get to listen."

"But –"

"Now would be a good time to shut up!"

"I heard that before," he grumbled.

"I was right then, too," she told him impatiently. She waited to see if he was going to respond. When he didn't, she continued. "Jack, if you run into a school, irate and yelling at the top of your lungs, you can bet no one's going to listen to what you're saying. They're going to have you arrested."

"But –"

"No! You are listening now," she commanded. "Trust me on this. If you go in there right now without getting yourself under control, whoever it is doing what he's doing to Romeo is going to laugh – he's going to _laugh_ – as you get hauled off to jail! To _jail_ , Jack!" She paused to let that sink in. "What good will it do Romeo for you to be in jail?"

A tear trickled from the corner of his eye. "But Kat, MacAllister's a monster –"

"Who do you want to be laughing when this is over?"

"What?" he asked, confused at her question.

"We can take Romeo out of there so this MacAllister person can't touch him anymore, but how many other children are there in that school?" She watched him mull this over. "So, I ask you, do want MacAllister to be laughing in delight as your temper gets _you_ hauled off to jail?"

He shook his head.

"Or do _you_ want to be the one laughing as we calmly take _him_ by surprise and have _him_ put in jail?"

His eyes widened at the prospect. He hadn't thought beyond saving Romeo.

Kat's gaze softened. "Jack, you're angry, and justifiably so, at what's probably been happening to Romeo, but you have _got_ to get yourself under control before you leave this house. You're entitled to your anger – I wouldn't dream of telling you not to be angry – but you've got to learn to be intelligent in your emotions and not so self-righteous."

"How do I do that?"

She brushed his tears away with her thumbs as she cradled his face and kissed his forehead. "You come with us to rescue Romeo, but you don't say a word, not a single syllable, no matter what happens or what anyone says."

His brow furrowed in confusion. She pulled him to his feet and turned him to face the room. "I'm just a girl, so no one's going to listen to me. But, my father, Charles, and Mr. Bascombe are a formidable trio."

"Bascombe?"

The unfamiliar man stepped forward. "Anthony Bascombe, Senior Attorney on staff at _The World_ ," he introduced himself as he shook Jack's hand.

"Nice to meet ya," Jack responded, somewhat dazed.

"Mr. Kelly, I know you're in a hurry to leave, and I agree that time is probably of the essence, but I'd like to get a bit of information from you and these boys before we go."

"Uh, sure?"

Bascombe took down the names of all the boys and some of the details of what they knew about the man they called MacAllister. "Please understand," Bascombe told them, "we don't know for certain that the Mr. MacAllister you're describing is the principal at the school, but I'd like to know a bit about before we go, just in case."

The boys all stared at him, not sure what to do.

Jack stepped forward. "His name's Henry MacAllister. Some call him Hank. He's married to Snyder's sister, Alice."

"Snyder?"

"Warren Snyder. Runs The Refuge."

"Used to," Kat corrected, wrapping her arms around one of Jack's and lacing her fingers in his.

He looked at her gratefully and squeezed her fingers. "Yeah. Used to."

"He's been replaced?"

"He's in jail for what he done there. Roosevelt shut the place down."

"Roosevelt? Governor Roosevelt?"

"Yeah."

Bascombe was suitably impressed and made a note. "Is that all?"

"No...uh..."

Kat wrapped an arm around his waist.

He held on to her tightly and took a deep breath. "Uh, Snyder, he was crooked as they come and didn't much care who was at The Refuge, long as there was enough boys for the city to send him the money he wanted. But there was some boys in particular he liked. Older ones, mostly. Ones who'd fight him so's he could brag 'bout beatin' 'em down. The littler ones he didn't care 'bout 'cause they didn't fight back, so if they escaped or left he didn't care, 'cause cops brought in new ones every day.

"But his brother-in-law..."Jack stumbled on his words, "MacAllister...he liked 'em young and pretty," Jack looked at Elmer, whose striking features and coloring hinted at a possible Mediterannean heritage. "'Specially if they had a little color to their skin. He didn't much like the pasty white ones. He'd, uh, bring 'em to his office for a 'consultation' on why they's in jail to start with, then promise 'em a way to get out." Jack took several deep breaths, unable to say any more.

"Can you continue?" Bascombe asked gently.

Jack squeezed Kat's and shook his head.

"He said lavender helped his ma's nerves," a timid voice continued Jack's story, "so he'd burn candles with lavender in 'em so's we wouldn't be nervous," Elmer said.

Bascombe wrote that down. "Is that all?" he prodded gently.

Elmer shook his head. "No. He'd lay ya out on his desk and – " he gulped, his eyes glued to the floor, "– he'd do, ...um...stuff..." He leaned into Albert's comforting arms.

"It's OK, son. You can stop. Is there anything you can tell me about MacAllister himself? Not what he did to you, but about the man?"

"Ummm," Elmer's voice was at a near whisper by now. "Uh, he liked cigarettes 'cause they didn't leave big scars like cigars does."

Bascombe made a note.

"And, um..."

"Yes? Go on, if you can."

"He gots red marks."

"Red marks?"

Elmer nodded. "Yeah. One's 'bout big as a nickel. Right here." He pointed to a spot low on his stomach. "And another one, a bit bigger, with a sort of point on the top of it, here," he pointed to a spot high on his thigh.

Greta gasped and swooped down, gathering Elmer into her arms. He clung to her, trying not to cry. "That's enough, dearest." She rocked him back and forth, doing her best to make him feel safe.

"It is, indeed," Bascombe confirmed. "You are a very brave young man to share that with me today."

"Uh, mister?" Specs piped up.

"Yes?"

"If it _is_ MacAllister, you'll know it's him and not some other fella with the same name if you calls him Monster Mac. He hates it. Makes him real angry."

"Thank you, son. That's good to know." He made another note, then gathered his papers. "Shall we go, then?"

"Greta, will you be OK here with the boys?"

"Go," Greta told her. "We'll be fine. Bring the rest of the family home, where it's safe."

Kat smiled. "We will." She used one arm to hug each of the boys before she left; Jack was still clinging to her other hand.

* * *

On the short ride to the school, Kat sat squeezed between Jack and her father. She felt Jack trembling and kissed his cheek. "You're my hero," she told him softly.

One corner of his mouth tipped up into a hint of a smile that quickly disappeared. "Even when I's bein' an ass?"

"Even then," she assured him.

He stared at her. "I's scared," he admitted in a harsh whisper.

"I know. But we've got a team to be reckoned with on our side, and Mr. Bascombe will make sure everything is legal."

"That's good."

"What else?"

"I's scared for Romeo. What if he don't snap back like he did before?"

"We'll love him through it," Kat promised. "We're family, remember?"

Jack nodded and squeezed her hand.

"Excuse me," Mr. Bascombe interrupted. "I need no details now, but I wish to make sure I understand correctly that if what we suspect is true, that this is not the first time Romeo has been subjected to the kind of treatment Elmer described?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah. At The Refuge, he was one of Monster Mac's favorites. Got to where he didn't talk no more, almost like this week, and that ain't like him at all." They'd arrived at the school and Jack's voice was thin with distress. As they assembled on the sidewalk, Jack summoned the courage to look up at the school. "He's gotta be so scared. And he don't even have his fire cat."

"Where's his fire cat?" Kat asked.

"Stinkin' Delancey brothers stole it."

"Jack. Jack. Look at me. There we go," Kat crooned in approval, when he tilted his head down to look at her. "The Delanceys stole his fire cat, but he still went in. He's been going for a week, even when he knew what would happen to him. He's so brave, Jack. So very brave. Just like his father. Just like _you_."

"Brave?"

"Yes. You are one of the bravest men I know." She cradled his face in her hands. "Jack, we will get him out of there. And we will not leave without his fire cat."

"God, Kat," he grabbed her hands in desperation, "don't leave me."

"I won't," she promised.

"Shall we go in?" Charles gently asked. He placed a reassuring hand on Jack's shoulder as they followed Bascombe and Pulitzer. Once inside the administrative office, Charles took the lead, requesting to collect students Romeo Kelly and Annie Thorpe.

The receptionist was bewildered at the number of people who had just appeared before her and meekly asked them to wait while she looked up their classroom numbers and went to get the requested children.

"I understand that you cannot have strangers roaming your halls during school hours, which is completely understandable," Charles told her, "however, if you have no objections, we will accompany you." He very politely held the door open for her, leaving her no choice but to accede to his request. "We will collect Romeo first. His classroom is on the first floor, is it not?"

The receptionist consulted her notes. "Y-yes. Room 112." Then she took off after Charles, who had already headed down the hall. She reached him just as he rapped on the door and opened it.

"Good day, Mr. ...?" Charles raised his eyebrows, inviting the teacher to provide his name.

"Renner," the man snapped. "What is going on here? What is the meaning of this?" His scornful gaze took in the four adults.

Charles continued as if Mr. Renner hadn't spoken. "Mr. Renner. Of course. We do apologize for interrupting your class, but we have come to collect one of your students."

"Which one? You can have any of them, as far as I'm concerned."

Charles once again raised his eyebrows, this time in disapproving surprise. "You would offer your students to just any stranger who asks?"

"Why not? They're the ones destined to be stupid. Why should I care what happens to them?"

"Indeed."

"Yes. Indeed," Mr. Renner spat sarcastically. "These kids can't learn anything, but they have to go to school, and this year is my turn to deal with them." He spat out in disgust. "I wish the school year was over already."

Kat felt Jack stirring to life beside her, indignant at the insult to Romeo's intelligence. She put her hand on his arm to remind him to remain calm.

"The future of your students notwithstanding, I should say they have a most appropriate instructor this year," Charles observed.

Mr. Renner sputtered indignantly.

"But I digress," Charles continued over him. "We are here to collect Romeo Kelly."

Several children in the room giggled. Two boys in the far back corner laughed loudly.

"There's a troublemaker if ever there was one," sneered Mr. Renner.

"I beg your pardon?" Charles inquired in icy tones.

"He's been here a week and spent more time in the principal's office than in this room."

"Why?"

"Brat couldn't sit still. He was always wriggling in his seat or walking around the room."

"The way those children are currently doing?" Charles indicated the classroom behind Mr. Renner, who turned and saw his students mingling with each other, a couple of them running around the room playing an impromptu game of Tag.

"Everyone. Take your seats," Mr. Renner said without conviction and not nearly loud enough to be heard over the commotion. Naturally, he was ignored. "You see?" He turned back to Charles, "not an ounce of intelligence to share among the lot of them. And that Romeo was the worst! Always talking, rattling on about something or another, always asking questions."

"Yes," Charles uttered dryly. "Curiosity and a thirst for knowledge should certainly be discouraged in an educational setting ."

"Mr. Renner, where is Romeo now?" Kat asked the man turning bright red in reaction to Charles's remark.

"With the principal, of course."

"Why?"

"He was a complete mess this morning. No respect at all, clothes torn and muddy, bag ripped, books ruined, crying about a tiger. Mr. MacAllister warned me about that boy and he was right. Kid's been nothing but trouble the whole time he's been here."

Jack stiffened in anger.

Kat pulled on his arm, trying to get him into the hallway. "Come on Jack, Charles. Let's go. Romeo's in the office."

Charles cast a cold gaze upon Mr. Renner. "We thank you for your time and apologize for the interruption of your, ahem, 'lessons'," he said insincerely. He turned to leave, but Jack stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Wait a sec."

Charles stopped.

Jack tipped his chin up, indicating the two loud boys in the back of the classroom. "Delanceys," is all he needed to say.

Charles nodded and wended his way through a now silent classroom. Jack tried to follow, but Kat held on to him, firmly shaking her head when he tried to protest.

The younger Delancey brothers, Wilbur and Vernon, thought it was hilarious to poke fun at the gang of adults coming to pick up the new kid. It was an altogether different matter when the largest one of them was suddenly looking down at them with an expression that was anything but kind.

"You will give me the tiger," Charles told them. "Now." He held out his hand.

Wilbur squeaked in fright and fell off his chair. Vernon, a year older and somewhat wiser, reached under his chair and pulled out the tiger he'd stolen from Romeo. "I just found it – "

"Do not lie to me," Charles commanded, snapping the toy from Vernon's hand. "Do not mess with my family or you will tangle with me. Do I make myself clear?"

The two cowering boys nodded.

"Good." Charles turned his back on them and returned to the door, giving Jack the fire cat as he ushered them out.

From down the hallway, they heard Pulitzer bellowing, "That's my grandson!"

Jack got to the office first, but Kat, Charles, and the receptionist were right on his heels. "MacAllister," Jack growled.

The pot-bellied man struggling against the hold of a uniformed police officer looked up and smiled. "Jack! My old friend! So nice to see you again," he looked Jack up and down, licking his lips. "I'd love to chat, talk about good times together, but I seem to be tied up at the moment." He twisted his shoulders and managed to free an arm which he then used to awkwardly throw punches at the police man.

Bascombe, sitting at one of the desks muttered "assaulting an officer of the law," and added it to his pages of notes.

"Jack, Jack, Jackie-boy," MacAllister oozed in his gravelly voice, "tell them it's just a mistake. Nothing happened. I love my boys. I'd never hurt them."

"What you feel ain't love," Jack snarled, "'cause you ain't got a heart. Know what they call creatures without a heart?"

MacAllister's face was turning purple with rage.

"They's called monsters," Jack taunted.

"I am not a monster!" MacAllister roared. With a vicious surge of fury, he freed his arms and punched the officer before hurtling over a desk to tackle Jack. He didn't have time to raise a fist, much less strike Jack, before he was once more restrained. He bellowed in frustration, straining against Charles's imprisoning hold. He snarled and spat in fury as he was wrestled to the floor so the officer could snap handcuffs on him.

"Pull those suspenders up," Pulitzer suggested in disgust. "I've seen enough of him, and don't care to repeat the experience."

Kat looked at her father, puzzled by his comment. "Why would his suspenders be ... down?" Her racing mind came up with a possibility that was too horrific to imagine. Her father leveled a look at her. She turned questioning eyes to Jack, who was picking himself up off the floor. He nodded grimly at her unspoken question and she gasped in shock and felt her knees go weak at the implications of what she now knew.

Jack wrapped her in his arms. "It's OK, Kat. We got to him before it got too bad. Romeo's gonna be fine."

"'Too bad'?" Kat pulled away. "What do you mean 'before'?" she asked in growing outrage. "The mere thought of what you're saying is 'too bad'! That it may have happened –"

"It happened."

"– is completely outrageous and well beyond 'too bad'!"

"Yeah. It is," snapped Jack. "But it don't change what happened. Here or at The Refuge!"

"The – " Kat choked. "You mean Elmer and Romeo?"

"Yeah. And they wasn't the only ones."

Kat sat down. "Oh, god. I think I'm going to be sick."

"I don't understand," wailed a receptionist. "He was so good with the children. He made the girls nervous, so we always sent someone in with them, but – "

"Goddamn it, woman," Jack snarled, "don't ya get it? With him, it ain't the _girls_ ya gotta worry about!"

The two ladies yelped and cowered away from him.

Jack turned away from them and looked at Bascombe. "Can we get outta here, yet?"

"Yes, yes. Just a moment," Bascombe told him, scribbling away in his notes.

Jack sat next to Pulitzer to check on Romeo, who was clinging to Pulitzer's neck. At Jack's touch, the boy squealed in fright. "'S OK, squirt, it's me."

Romeo dared to look up. "Pop?" he whimpered.

"Yeah. Com'ere."

Romeo threw himself into Jack's arms. "It's Monster Mac, Jack. It's Monster Mac."

"I knows," Jack held on to his son as tightly as he could.

"It's Monster Mac but he told me not to say nothin' to anyone or he'd hurt me worse and hurt whoever I told, so's I had to be quiet 'cause I didn't want him to get you or Elmer or the fellas."

"I knows, sport. I knows. But we found out and he's gonna get locked up. You's OK."

Kat kissed the top of Romeo's head. "Pop's right, bugaboo. You're safe now. We've got you." She brushed her hands across his shoulders and down his back, noticing for the first time that he was bundled in what appeared to be her father's coat. A quick glance confirmed her suspicion. "Why is Romeo wearing your coat?" she asked him.

"With a little imagination, I'm sure you can figure out why," he told her dryly.

She nodded mutely, feeling faint. She kissed Romeo's head again, a single tear landing in his hair as her heart broke for him. Her eyes met Jack's sad, resigned ones. She stiffened. Wait a minute. Something wasn't right, here. Jack was supposed to be angry. Mad enough to spit nails. Why was he sad? Was he giving in? Giving up? No. Not her Jack. He was strong. Brave. Tough. The only times he wavered were when he . . . battled demons from his past.

She turned to look at the man still struggling against his bonds. The longer she watched him, the angrier she got until she was trembling with rage. She pointed at him and yelled, "You!"

The room got quiet. All eyes were on her. She slowly advanced on the handcuffed man on the other side of the room.

He grinned at her, displaying his yellowed teeth. "You want some of this, girlie? Just get 'em to let me go and I'm all yours," he promised in an oozing, disgustingly suggestive manner that left her feeling dirty.

"How dare you!" Kat raged. "How dare you practice your wicked ways on my family! How dare you do what you did to my son, my husband, and however many other boys! You're despicable – "

"None of 'em complained about it, did they?" he leered.

"How many of them did you threaten so they felt like they _couldn't_ complain?" Kat demanded. "How many of them did you hurt worse when they _did_ complain?"

"Why don't ya let me do it to you, girlie? Then you'll see no one ever had reason to complain."

"MacAllister!" Jack warned loudly, but he couldn't move with Romeo in his arms.

Kat took a step closer to MacAlister. "There's no way in _hell_ I would ever consort with the likes of your twisted, perverted self. You're nothing but a cruel, heartless, selfish, pitiful excuse of a man and you don't deserve to breathe the same air as any of the boys you've mistreated!"

He flicked his tongue at her. "Betcha wish ya could have some of this, doncha?"

She slapped him. Hard. "You loathsome, vulgar creature! Everything they said is true! You truly are a monster!"

He was instantly purple with rage. "I am not a monster!" he roared as he leaped at her.

His attempt at attacking was immediately thwarted by the officer's hold on the handcuffs. "Damn you, girlie! I been cursin' you and that gang of yours since you closed my Refuge! My wife won't speak to me; her brother's in jail; and my boys, my beautiful boys," he choked on a sob, "you took them away! Do you know how long it took me to find a job like this, where I had more boys who needed me? And now you're taking that away, too!"

"Shut up, you horrid, horrible old coot! You don't love anyone but yourself!"

"Oh, I loved them. They needed me –"

"Needed you? Hah!"

"They did! Prison full of boys nobody wanted. No one but me. Ask 'em," he tipped his head at Jack and Romeo, "they'll tell ya. Won't ya Romeo? Tell 'em how much I loved you." His voice changed back to an oozing caress that sent shivers of fear and disgust up Kat's spine. When they didn't respond, he got angry. "Tell 'em, damn it! Tell 'em or I'll –"

"Shut up you miserable, cowering, spawn of Satan! Just! Shut! Up!" Kat surged toward him only to be brought up short by her father's restraining arms. "Let me go!" she demanded, squirming to get free so she could attack the vile man who was now being escorted out of the building by the two officers who had arrived with the prison wagon.

As they disappeared from view, Pulitzer's grip tightened on his daughter's arms. "Katherine," he said firmly.

She didn't hear him, still struggling to get free.

He turned her around. "Katherine. Stop it. Now."

The fight suddenly drained from her as her attention focused on him and not the absent MacAllister. Her face crumpled in pain and grief and she threw herself against her father's chest and sobbed her heartbreak into his shirt.

He held her tightly, comforting her just as he'd done many times when she was a girl. When her sobs abated, he wiped at her face with a handkerchief. "Better?"

She shook her head. "How can such an evil person be allowed to walk freely, hurting and harming innocent children?"

He handed her the handkerchief. "I don't know. All I can advise is to bolster your courage and bravely march on, knowing that it's out there and you cannot make it go away, but you can protect the ones you love."

She nodded.

"Better now?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"Good. Because it's time to be strong."

She looked at him in question. He turned her to face her husband and son, who were looking at her with expressions of admiration mixed with shock. "Oh, my goodness," she exclaimed, rushing to kneel beside them. "I'm sorry, you guys. I'm so sorry I behaved so poorly." She looked Jack straight in the eyes as she said it, since she'd chastized him for just such behavior already. "I should have held my temper, but –"

Her apology and explanation were cut off as Jack wrapped his free hand around the back of her head and pulled her in for a resounding kiss. "Damn, Kat," he said as they broke apart, his forehead resting against hers, "I didn't know ya had it in ya."

"Well, it's not very ladylike behavior," she admitted sheepishly.

"Don't care," he told her. "I liked it." He smiled.

She smiled back.

"Me, too," piped in a tiny voice beside her ear.

"Romeo," she turned to gaze upon his sweet features. Her hands cradled his face. "My sweet angel, I am so sorry that awful, wicked man got to you again."

"Ya called him a old coot," he giggled softly.

"I did, didn't I?"

"You made him go to jail?"

"For now, that's where he's headed. Mr. Bascombe will work to see that he stays there, but don't you worry," she caressed his brow, then looked between him and Jack, trying to reassure them both, "whether he stays in jail or not, he won't ever get to you again," she promised. "Never."

Romeo smiled weakly, then looked up at Jack.

"Damn right," he vowed, giving Romeo a protective squeeze.

Romeo curled up into Jack's arms once again.

Kat kissed both their cheeks then got to her feet. Her father was on the phone, presumably with the superintendent of schools, judging by his end of the conversation. Mr. Bascombe was finishing up statements with the office staff, all of whom were decidedly shaken.

Charles walked in with a comforting arm around a distraught and confused Annie. "Are we about ready to depart from this place?" he asked.

"I think so," Kat said, giving Annie a hug.

"What happened?" Annie asked. "Why did Mr. Charles tell me to leave my school books here?"

"The principal was not a nice man, and neither was Romeo's teacher," Kat explained. "We're going to find a different school for the two of you to go to."

"I don't have to come back?" Annie asked hopefully.

Kat shook her head.

"No, you most decidedly do not," Charles confirmed. "Shall we go?"

Kat looked around. Sure enough, Mr. Bascombe and her father were heading down the hallway. Jack stood with Romeo cradled in his arms. As he walked away, Kat spotted a flash of orange beneath his chair.

"Wait." She pulled Romeo's fire cat out and presented it to him. "We can't leave without everybody, can we?"

Romeo grabbed it from her and buried his face in its fur, curling himself into Jack's chest.

Jack squeezed him and kissed his head. "You's OK, kid. I gots ya, now." He looked at Kat and smiled weakly.

She stepped close and wrapped her arms around them both. She looked at Jack. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?" she asked him softly.

He blinked back a few tears, but his expression gained confidence, and his stance relaxed just a bit.

"Me, too?" inquired a fuzzy fire cat.

Kat tugged at the toy just enough to reveal Romeo's face. "Of course, 'you, too,' you silly goose. I'm your mother – I'll love you forever." She kissed his forehead, then decided that wasn't enough, so she rained kisses all over his face until he giggled. She finger-combed his hair, then framed his face in her hands. "There is nothing on this planet or in the whole universe that can make me stop loving you. You got that?"

He smiled in relief and nodded, nuzzling back into his fire cat.

She looked up at her husband. "That goes for you, too, you know. Nothing from your past or in our future will ever stop me from loving you," she vowed.

They shared a look for a long moment, then he nodded, silently accepting her promise.

Charles cleared his throat. "Are we ready?" he suggested gently.

Jack took a deep breath to steady his emotions. "Yeah," he said, smiling at his wife. "Let's get outta here."

"Yes, let's," agreed Kat, and they walked out together.

Charles looked at the stunned, silent ladies still sitting frozen in their chairs across the room. "Ladies," he tipped his head in polite respect. "We deeply apologize for disrupting your day. The superintendent assures us he will have an interim principal here within the next couple of hours." He tipped his head again. "I hope you have a pleasant afternoon." He left, pulling the door closed behind him.

Once outside, Charles announced that he and Annie would walk home due to the lack of room for two extra people in the carriage.

Bascombe had them drop by Dr. Anderson's office for a complete medical examination of Romeo's condition, then Pulitzer dropped them off at Kelly House. He got out first, holding Romeo as Jack got down, then surrendering the boy back to his father.

Kat thanked Bascombe effusively before she got out. He assured her it was his pleasure to be of service and he would pursue all available avenues to see that Romeo, Elmer, and all the other boys were vindicated for what had been done to them.

As Kat stepped out of the carriage, she threw her arms around her father's neck. "Thank you, father. You'll never know how much it meant to me to have you there today."

He hugged her tightly. "I'm your father, Katherine. I will always be there for you."

"Thank you, anyway," she repeated as she stepped back. "I love you."

He smiled. "I love you, too." He cleared his throat. "Your mother – "

Kat smiled in understanding. "Give us a couple of hours? To settle down. Maybe come by after work?" she suggested. "If you don't have plans, you could stay for supper?"

Pulitzer nodded. "The hard part will be keeping her from coming over as soon as she knows. She is sure to be curious about my missing coat."

"We'll get that cleaned and returned –"

Pulitzer held up a hand. "No. That isn't necessary."

"Thank you for rescuing Romeo," Kat said, choking back sudden tears.

Pulitzer said nothing, just held his daughter until she was herself once more.

"Thanks," she said again, giggling. "I seem to be saying that a lot today." She wiped at her eyes, accepting, once again, the handkerchief her father offered. She looked at the house, then back at him. "You know, if mother wants to come right away, don't try to stop her. It'd be nice to have her here – and you, too, if you want – and it would be good for the boys, too. If you, she, want to wait, that's fine – I don't know what her schedule is – but if you want to come, that's fine, too. I – "

Pulitzer stopped her rambling with a gentle finger on her lips. "Go see to your family. I've got to get Bascombe back to the office. Your mother and I will be here as soon as we can manage."

Kat smiled her thanks behind his fingers. He turned her toward the house and gave her a little push forward. She ran up the stairs and in the front door without a backward glance.

* * *

Predictably, everyone was in the kitchen, surrounded by love, security, and the cheerfully soothing aroma of cinnamon. Kat let Greta know that her parents would be by later and might stay for supper before she went to check on Jack and Romeo, who were sitting in front of the fire talking to Crutchie. Well, Jack was talking; Romeo was either asleep or nearly so, in Jack's arms. She sat across from them and called for Elmer.

"Yeah?" he asked, coming to stand beside her.

She scooted as far to one side of the armchair as she could and patted the empty spot next to her. "I need to hug someone right now. Jack's got Romeo, so squnch yourself in here, so I can hug you instead."

He didn't need to be asked twice. They sat together, his head on her shoulder, her arm around him, absently combing her fingers through his hair, as they listened to Jack and Crutchie, while Greta and the others finished up making cinnamon doughnuts.

When the kitchen met Greta's standards for cleanliness, everyone gathered around on the floor or pulling over chairs, to hear what had happened.

"So, is Mad Mac gone?" Elmer asked.

"Mr. Bascombe will do his best to make sure he goes to jail for good," Kat told them. "But no matter what happens with him, he won't touch any of you again," she promised.

"What 'bout a education?" Specs asked. "Charles and Greta says ya wants us all to get schoolin'?"

Kat smiled at him. "We do. An education is a very important part of building a good future for yourselves, but you don't necessarily have to go to a school to get one."

"How, then?"

"We will bring the school to you."

Wonder and curiosity rippled through the boys.

"How's that happen?" Specs asked for all of them.

"We hire tutors to come to the house," Kat explained. "We have a library here, and a schoolroom, so there's plenty of room."

"So I won't have to go to no school and feel stupid 'cause some little pipsqueak younger'n me knows more'n I do?" Race asked.

"That is correct, Race," Charles answered. "But I will have you all consider this, just as I had Jack do: there are many kinds of intelligence. Do not discredit what you have learned simply because you did not learn it in a classroom. It's true that some have more advanced academic skills than you have had the opportunity to obtain, but, I ask you, would they be able to survive on the streets, as you have done?"

The boys pondered that for a bit.

"Hadn't thought of that," Albert admitted.

"'S a good point," Finch stated. "They knows stuff and we knows stuff. Ain't one better than the other. They's just different."

"Yeah," piped in Crutchie. "Readin' and writin's good, but it don't keep ya alive on the streets. Look at Davey. He could do all that stuff, but he was terrible at sellin' papes!"

The boys all laughed.

"Smartest thing he ever done was hookin' up with Jack," Elmer said. "Weren't for Les and the forty percent he got from Jack, he'd'a starved!"

More laughter trilled through the room as the newsies all agreed with Elmer's assessment.

"So, Mare, how d'we get a teacher to come to us?" Specs brought them back to the original question.

"We'll put an ad in the papers, interview the applicants, and pick the one we like the best."

"Who gets to pick?"

"How'll we know if we likes someone?"

"What'll he teach us?"

"Will he care we ain't been to school before?"

"Can Annie come, too?"

The questions flew as the boys became more intrigued about a personalized education. In the end, it was decided that Charles would head the effort at finding a suitable tutor or two, but that the boys, and most definitely Annie, would get to participate in some way.

Greta praised them all for looking out for their futures, but declared that, at the present, it was time to prepare for lunch and for Romeo to get cleaned up. "A bath won't make everything go away, but it'll do him a world of good just to be clean," she stated in her practical, matter of fact way. Everyone scattered to do as she directed.

Shortly after lunch, Kat's parents arrived, Nana Kate anxious to make sure her grandson was well. After a couple of hours, she said they must be leaving, but she allowed herself to be persuaded to stay, and they all enjoyed a relaxing afternoon and evening together. After dinner, Pulitzer and Charles played chess with Crutchie, Elmer, and Specs. Race, Finch, Albert, and Annie pulled out the Parcheesi game, while Greta, Kate, Jack and Kat sat together chatting about nothing in particular.

Romeo moved from one set of protective arms to another, browsing treasures in the Sears and Roebuck catalog. He wasn't very talkative, but he wasn't silent, either; he really was just content to soak in the safety he felt from his protectors. When he wandered over to Pulitzer and climbed onto his lap, no one was terribly surprised, since they all knew the story of the morning's activities. But when he fell asleep on Pulitzer's lap, several sets of eyes did widen in surprise as Pulitzer merely shifted so he could more comfortably accommodate Romeo's limp form.

No one said anything, but every resident of Kelly House accepted Pulitzer as one of their family from that day forward.


	19. Chapter 19: World Events

A week after the incident at the school, Pulitzer looked up from the stories he was reviewing with his chief editor, William Seitz, when he saw a flash of orange just outside his office door. It disappeared so quickly, he wasn't certain he'd seen it, so he got up to investigate.

Seitz stopped mid-sentence as Pulitzer walked to the door. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know yet. Just a moment." Pulitzer scanned his secretary's office and, sure enough, on the other side of the room stood Romeo, his nose and hands pressed against the window, his tiger tucked under one arm. Not wanting to startle the boy, Pulitzer cleared his throat as he approached the window.

"Wow!" Romeo exclaimed. "You gots to be higher up than anyone!"

"I don't know about that, but it is quite a view, isn't it?"

Romeo looked up at him. "Can you see the whole world from here?"

Pulitzer chuckled. "Not quite that far, but you _can_ see New Jersey."

Romeo whipped his head back to the view. "Where!"

Pulitzer pointed out the neighboring state sitting just across the river. After a few minutes of admiring the scenery, he asked, "What brings you here today?"

Romeo's solemn expression spoke volumes. "Ma and Pop's talkin' to Mr. Bascombe."

"Ah. I see."

"I, um, I gots somethin' for ya, too."

"Well, shall we go into my office, then?"

"This ain't your office?"

"No. My secretary, Hannah, works in this office."

"What's a seck-a-tarry?"

"A secretary is an assistant, someone who helps me get all my work done."

"Oh. Ooooohh!" Romeo stopped short in the doorway as he took in the picture windows on three sides of Pulitzer's office and the glorious view they provided. He bee-lined to the closest one and barely heard Pulitzer ask Seitz to return later that afternoon and to stop by Bascombe's office to let Romeo's parents know where he was.

Pulitzer gave Romeo a bird's-eye tour of the city, pointing out familiar landmarks. Romeo was fascinated, especially by Brooklyn, but didn't say anything beyond a few oohs and aahs. Pulitzer sat at his desk and watched Romeo for a bit, puzzling over the boy who was very obviously bubbling over with curiosity, but didn't ask a single question. He didn't know Romeo all that well, but it did seem out of character for him to be so quiet. He cleared his throat again. "You said you had something for me?"

Romeo tore his attention away from the view and faced Pulitzer. "Yeah." He pulled off the backpack he was wearing and pulled something from it. "Ma said you didn't want your coat back, so Greta made it into a bear. But it was your coat, so you should have it." He handed it to Pulitzer, sorrow in his eyes at giving up an already beloved toy.

Pulitzer accepted it and looked it over. The workmanship was quite good: the jointed limbs appeared to be sturdy and strong, and the simple, yet elegant, embroidered facial features were perfectly suited to the toy. "This is a beautiful bear, Romeo, but I can't accept it."

"Why not? Don't ya like it? It can protect ya from bad dreams and ... stuff."

"Yes, I'm sure it could, but I already have something that helps me with that."

"Oh."

"The truth of the matter is that when I put my coat on you, I knew I wouldn't be getting it back, which means that I gave the coat to you."

"To me?"

"Yes. The coat was yours."

"So the bear...?"

"Is yours, too."

Romeo's face lit up. "Ya sure? Ya won't be changin' your mind?"

"The bear is yours, fair and square."

Pulitzer handed the toy to Romeo, who took it, slowly, almost expecting him to snatch it back at the last second. When he didn't, and it was at last in his grasp, he heaved a sigh of relief and tucked it under his arm next to his fire cat. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He then watched Romeo struggle to decide whether or not to say something. After several minutes, he finally said, "You have something on your mind?"

Romeo nodded.

"Out with it, then. Tell me what it is."

"Ummm...That day...at the school, when ya snatched me away from...from..."

"Yes. I remember."

"Ummm...ya said I's, um...ya said that...I's your grandson?"

"I did."

"Well, umm, I's, umm, I's just wonderin'...did ya mean it or was ya just sayin' it 'cause of...'cause of...well, just 'cause?"

Pulitzer regarded the nervous boy tracing idle designs on the desk. He pondered the question carefully, though he already knew the answer. His daughter was adopting the child; his wife already considered him to be her grandson. No matter what _his_ wishes were, this child was in his life, and he'd resigned himself to that fact; however, when he'd seen the abuse Romeo had been subjected to, he'd blown up, blurting out the comment about his grandson without thinking. But as he'd wrapped the trembling, traumatized boy in his coat and scooped him in his arms, something had felt right. When young arms had tightened around his neck in a death grip, the last vestiges of resistance had been squeezed out, too. "I meant it," he admitted.

Romeo's head snapped up. "Really?" he whispered.

"Yes." Pulitzer nodded, watching Romeo once more seem to suppress his desire to express what he was feeling, though he couldn't hide his grin. Pulitzer smiled back.

"So, what does I call ya?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I calls Nana Kate, 'Nana Kate,' 'cause she's my grandma. Should I call ya somethin' like that? Like 'Papa Joe'?"

Pulitzer stood abruptly. "God, no," he said gruffly, hating the silly-sounding name.

Romeo squeaked in alarm and ducked behind the desk.

Instantly contrite, Pulitzer apologized. "I'm sorry, Romeo. I didn't mean to frighten you. Come out, now."

Romeo slowly stood, scoping out potential dangers before he was once more upright. "Ya don't likes 'Papa Joe'?"

"No."

"Well, I gots to call ya somethin'," Romeo explained, "so folks'll know you's my grandpa. I could call ya that?"

"What?"

"Grandpa."

"No."

"You gots any ideas? 'Cause I's fresh out."

"Why don't we try... _Dziadek_."

"Jah-deck?" Romeo stumbled over the strange-sounding syllables.

"Add a little more 'z' in the beginning," Pulitzer corrected. He repeated it a little more slowly.

"Jzah-deck."

"Yes. That's it."

" _Dziadek_ ," Romeo said a few more times. "I likes it. It's fun to say. I ain't never heard it before."

"It's Polish. It means 'grandfather'."

"Oh." Then, "What's 'Polish'?"

"It's the language spoken in Poland."

"Oh." And again, "What's 'Poland'?"

"Poland is the country where I was born."

"Oh."

Before Romeo could ask, Pulitzer summoned him over to the free-standing globe sitting beside his desk.

"Hey! I seen those in a shop window once. Couldn't figure out why anyone'd want a ball that just sat in one spot, but..." his shrug clearly said 'you never can tell about some folks'.

Pulitzer chuckled. "This," he spun it, "is a globe. A map of the world."

"A map."

"A map is a picture that shows you where things are in a particular place. A globe," he spun it again, "shows where all the countries are on Earth."

"Really?"

"Yes." Pulitzer turned the globe slowly, looking for something. "Here," he pointed, "is America, the country we live in. And here," he pointed again, "is New York, our state."

Romeo edged closer, fascinated.

"This area here is the Atlantic Ocean," Pulitzer narrated as he slowly turned the globe, "and this," he pointed once more, "is Poland, the country in which I was born and grew up."

"It's bigger than New York," observed Romeo.

"It is."

Romeo looked up at Pulitzer. "But you's grown up now and you's here. When'd you leave there?"

"I left Poland to come to America when I was somewhere around Jack's age."

"Oh. Does ya still know Polish?"

"I do."

"Can ya say somethin' in it? I ain't never heard it before."

" _Mówią po polsku w Polsce, ale w Ameryce mówimy po angielsku._ "

Romeo's face brightened in delight. "What's that mean? What'd ya say?"

"'They speak Polish in Poland, but we speak English in America'," Pulitzer translated.

"Can I say it, too?"

"Sure."

Romeo rattled it off, stumbling a bit on the new sounds.

Pulitzer corrected his errors and Romeo said it again without hesitation and without mistakes. This time it was Pulitzer who was delighted. "Well done," he praised.

Romeo beamed.

"What's going on in here?" Kat asked from the doorway.

Romeo spun and ran to her. "Guess what?"

"What?"

" _Mówią po polsku w Polsce, ale w Ameryce mówimy po angielsku!_ "

"So we do!" Kat responded in surprise. " _Dobra robota, kochanie!_ "

"You knows Polish, too?"

"I don't know much, but my father did teach me some when I was younger."

"What's that mean? What you just said."

"'Well done, sweetheart'," Kat translated.

Romeo melted against her blissfully.

Kat absently combed his hair with her fingers while she chatted with her father. He was telling her of the lesson at the globe when his wife walked in.

"Hello, dear," Kate greeted her husband with a kiss on the cheek before turning to hug her daughter. "Katherine, what brings you here today?"

"Jack and I came to talk with Mr. Bascombe. Jack's gone down to his office and I came to collect a wandering Romeo."

Kate looked down at the boy tugging on her hands, silently begging to tell her something. "Yes, dear boy, what is it?"

"Nana Kate, guess what?"

"What?"

He rattled off his new sentence.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "My goodness! How impressive! Wherever did you learn to say that?"

" _Dziadek_ taught me."

" _Dziadek_?" The two women said in unison, turning delighted, amazed, and definitely curious eyes in his direction.

He blushed and went to stand by the window. "Yes, well...," he allowed his attention to be caught by a flock of birds flying by.

Kate crossed the room and hugged her husband. "Thank you," she said quietly, looking at him with adoring eyes.

He returned her gaze with a smile, but said nothing, just hugged her back.

" _Dziadek_?"

They looked at Romeo.

"Thanks for my bear."

"You're welcome."

"How d'ya say 'bear' in Polish?"

" _Miś_."

"Meesh." Romeo nodded. "I likes it. _Miś_ ," he said to his bear before looking back up at his newly-acquired grandfather. "D'ya thinks that maybe one day ya could show me some more places on the spinny map?"

Pulitzer nodded. "It would be my pleasure."

Romeo grinned in anticipation, then went back to Kat, who helped him pack his animals in his backpack before leaving her parents to enjoy their weekly luncheon date.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Hannah knocked on Pulitzer's office door and announced that someone wanted to speak with him.

"Who is it?" he asked impatiently. "Tell him to come back tomorrow."

"It's Jack Kelly, sir."

Pulitzer looked up. "Show him in." He stood and rounded the desk as Jack entered the office. He shook Jack's hand in greeting. "Hannah, my son-in-law is to be granted an audience whenever he wishes."

Hannah's surprised expression mirrored Jack's. "Sir?"

"He's family, and is to be granted the same considerations and accommodations as any other member of my family."

Hannah looked in wonder between Pulitzer and the young man she knew to have been a thorn in her employer's side. There was a story here, she just knew it, she only wished she knew what it was.

"Please see that we are not disturbed," he requested.

"Yes, sir." Hannah backed out of the office, pulling the door shut as she went.

When they were alone, Pultizer looked at a decidedly nervous Jack. "How can I help you, Jack?"

Jack took a deep breath, then faced Pulitzer. "First off, Kat don't know I's here."

"I see. Is it important that I should know that?"

"Yeah. I don't want ya thinkin' I's doing this only 'cause she told me to. This is me doin' it 'cause I wants to. 'Cause it's right."

"And what it is it you're doing? You don't need money –"

"Hell, no! Between her and her grandma and Darcy, I gots more money than I ever imagined. I's rich enough just with what I gets paid here, but ... no, I ain't askin' for nothin'."

Pulitzer waited in patient silence for Jack to continue.

"It's just, um, the other day, at the school..."

"Yes?" Pulitzer prodded after a moment of silence.

Jack took another deep breath. "I just wanted to thank ya is all."

"Thank me?"

"Yeah. It's just that it was so much bigger than before, and I was so mad and, and confused ... The fellas always wants me to fix things for 'em, but I don't always know how and ... and I didn't know what to do except take Romeo from that place, but I'd'a done it wrong and messed everythin' up." He paused, trying to reassemble his scrambled thoughts. "Then you comes, bringin' a lawyer so everything's done right. And you snatched Romeo from ... from ...," he took another deep breath. "Anyway, you were there, which was good, 'cause when I seen him, I couldn't think of nothin' more'n what he done to Romeo and ... and ... I just wants to thank ya, is all. It ... helped ... to have ya there that day. So ... thanks." He sighed.

Pulitzer didn't quite know how to respond to Jack's confession. Jack had been relatively silent at the school, but Pulitzer had figured it was because Katherine had been so firm in her command that Jack not say anything. Pulitzer had never once felt like Jack had been as uncertain about things as he'd just admitted to being. The young man before him had always been so swaggering and self-confident; to hear him admit to being otherwise surprised Pulitzer and he found he didn't quite know what to say, so he settled on, "You're welcome. I'm glad I was able to be there."

Jack let out a breath of relief and the tension left his shoulders. He smiled gratefully at his father-in-law. "Thanks, too, for tellin' the fellas we's your family."

"I meant that, Jack."

"Yeah?"

"Every bit as much as what you told me about your family a few weeks ago. I meant what I just told Hannah, too."

Jack stared at Pulitzer for a long moment, letting the implications sink in, then his face split into a wide grin. "You's alright, ya know?"

Pulitzer chuckled. "I've heard that a time or two."

"So, uh, what does I call ya, now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I called ya 'Joe' just to be irritatin', but it don't seem right no more. But I don't know what else to call ya. 'Mr. Pulitzer', maybe?"

Pulitzer smiled. "Why don't we just stick with 'Joe'?" he suggested.

"Is ya sure?"

"To tell the truth, I've grown somewhat accustomed to it."

Jack smiled. "OK. Joe." Jack extended his hand to Pulitzer, who shook it. "Hi Joe. I's Jack. It's good to meet ya."

"Likewise," said an amused Pulitzer.

"Well, I guess I should be gettin' back to work." Jack edged backwards toward the door. "Thanks for seein' me. I 'preciate it and, uh, everythin' else, too."

"Jack, wait."

Jack stopped.

"It's early, but let's call it a day, shall we?"

"Beg pardon?"

Pulitzer donned his coat, grabbed his hat, and ushered Jack out of the office. "Hannah, I will be in a meeting with Mr. Kelly for the rest of the day. Call his supervisor to let him know, will you, and ring for my carriage."

"Y-yes, sir," she stammered in surprise.

Pulitzer led a bemused Jack to the elevator. "Do you have everything you need?"

"What?"

"Is there anything at your desk you need to take home with you?"

"No. I's good. I took a walk before comin' up to your office, so I's got my coat on."

"Very good."

"Where's we goin'?"

"To Kelly House."

"Why?"

"Is there a problem?"

"No. I's just wonderin'. You ain't never wanted to be there before."

"There are many things about which I feel differently now than I did last week."

"'S that so?" Jack wondered, not quite sure he understood, but willing to go along with it.

"Besides, Specs won our last chess game, and I cannot let that stand."

Jack threw back his head and laughed heartily. "You's OK, Joe. You's OK."

* * *

NOTE: The only time I have to write is during my breaks at work. Once I have a chapter written, I transcribe it a little at a time before heading to bed. Lately, between a respiratory infection, winter storms, power outages, a crazy work schedule, and having to walk down, then up, a mountain to get to and from work (literally...I live in the mountains, and my car was snow-bound in my driveway), I have just not had a lot of time, or energy, to type much of anything. That being said, just because I can't type a chapter doesn't mean I can't keep writing, and that's exactly what happened here. While I was trying to find time to type the previous chapter, I managed to get the next chapter written! It's relatively short, so it was easy to type in just two quick sittings, so I've been able to post two new chapters in one week! The next chapter is underway, but it'll be a couple weeks, at least, until I can get it posted because the beginning of the year brings a whole new basket of challenges and schedules at work. But, rest assured, it's in the works, so I hope you'll bear with me. It's gonna be a good one, I think.

And, please, comments are food for the soul, and my imagination, so please leave me some!

Have a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year, and an All-Around Exceptional Holiday Season!


	20. Chapter 20: Interviews and Self-Defense

The next Wednesday, Race answered a knock at the front door. He looked over the visitor in his fancy suit and said, "There ain't no one died here."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ain't ya one of them people what hauls off dead people?"

"I most certainly am not."

"Ya sellin' somethin'?"

"No."

"Whacha want, then?"

"I am here to speak with," he consulted a paper in his hand, "Mr. Charles Montgomery regarding a teaching position."

"Hmph," Race looked the man over again, then yelled over his shoulder, "Charles! Someone's here to see ya!" He turned back to the visitor still standing on the stoop. "Ya gots a name?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ya sure does a lot of beggin'," Race snipped. "A name. Ya gots one?"

"My name is Richard Thurston, III."

"The third? There's three of ya? Really?"

"May I please come in and speak with Mr. Montgomery?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." Race backed up to let the man in. He shut the door behind them, but didn't leave.

Specs peered around the parlor door. "Race, it's your turn." Just then he noticed the visitor. "Who's this?" he asked, joining Race in the hall.

"I am Richard Thurston, waiting for an audience with Mr. Montgomery."

"Richie, here, thinks he's gonna teach us," Race stage-whispered at Specs.

"My name is Richard, and I assure you I have the highest qualifications," Richard told them. "Mr. Pulitzer himself recommended me for the position."

"So?" Race asked.

Richard was nonplussed. "Mr. Pulitzer is a man of unparalleled taste and refinement. I assure you he knows only the best –"

"Joe's OK," Race agreed. "But how's that make you a good teacher?"

"Good question," Specs praised Race.

Richard's mouth opened and shut a few times as he struggled for the right words. He'd never met anyone like these two boys...three, four boys...and a girl?...he amended his counts as children seemed to trickle out of the woodwork. "Ummm, is Mr. Montgomery available?" he asked in desperation.

"Char–!" Race's bellow was cut off at Charles's hand on his shoulder. "Oh, hey, Charles. Richie here thinks he can teach us somethin' and wants to talk to ya 'bout it." Race's feathers were quite obviously ruffled.

Charles smiled and squeezed Race's shoulder. "Settle down. Nothing's been decided yet."

Race visibly relaxed, but glared at the applicant.

"Mr. Montgomery, I presume?" Richard reached out to shake Charles's hand.

"Shall we adjourn to the parlor?" Charles invited.

"The parlor?" Richard asked in confusion.

"The study is a more traditional place in which to conduct an interview, I realize, but at present, it is overrun with multiple piles of papers and, as such, is inaccessible for a comfortable interview. At any rate, there would not be enough room, so it's just as well."

"Not enough room?" Richard couldn't imagine needing all that much room for an interview between two people.

Charles didn't hear him. "Will someone please get the others?"

 _Others_? Richard thought. How many more could there possible be?

"On it," Elmer announced as he ducked out the door.

Charles indicated an armchair on one side of the low table for Richard to sit in. He sat in the middle of the love seat on the opposite side. The boys and girl from the hallway settled in chairs or on the floor around the parlor.

Richard was perplexed. This was highly unusual. "Are all of these...children...staying for the interview?"

"Is there a problem?"

"Well, it _is_ most unusual."

"If you are selected for the position, these are the children you will be teaching. Do you not agree that they should have a say in choosing the person with whom they are entrusting their educational endeavors?"

"I, I suppose so?"

"Very well."

"I'm sorry, but just to clarify, there will be four boys in my class?"

"There will be a total of seven boys and one girl, ranging in age from around ten or eleven to approximately fifteen or sixteen."

"I see."

"Is there a problem?"

"No. No. I was just curious, is all."

"Why don't you begin by telling us a bit about yourself."

"OK. Let's see," Richard was perplexed. Interviews normally involved him answering questions. This unusual situation had thrown him for a loop and he was having trouble collecting his thoughts to respond to Mr. Montgomery's request in an intelligent manner. He was saved, however briefly, by the arrival of three more people.

"Hiya fellas," Crutchie greeted the room. "We gots someone to teach us?"

"He thinks he can," Race mumbled.

"Crutchie was in the kitchen gettin' a snack, so I brung Greta and Albert, too," Elmer announced from behind the wheelchair he was pushing.

"Isn't this exciting!" Greta exclaimed. "Our first applicant! Since Crutchie was hungry, I figured you all would be, too, so I brought snacks for everyone." She laid a large platter of crackers, cheeses, and sliced fruits and vegetables on the table between Charles and Richard, slapping playfully at overly-grabby hands. "Now stop that! You know better." She looked at Albert, who was holding a stack of small plates. "Albert, pass out the plates, if you please. Now, each of you take just a couple of each of the things you want. When you finish, you can get some more."

"Sorry, Greta," Specs apologized with a sheepish grin and a kiss on her cheek. "I didn't know how hungry I was 'til you brung food."

She smiled fondly and patted his cheek. "It's quite alright, dear boy. Just remember lunch is in an hour or two, so don't fill up on snacks. This is just to fill up the empty spaces until lunchtime."

"Got it, Greta!" several voices chimed in as they formed a circle around the table and filled their plates.

As the children settled back in their places, Charles offered Richard a plate.

"N-no, thank you."

"If you're certain." Charles settled back on the sofa, with Romeo tucked into one side, and Annie sitting on his other side. Greta took the armchair next to Richard. "Now, where were we?"

"He was gonna tell us why knowin' Joe'd make him a good teacher for us," Race reminded Charles.

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Race." Charles looked expectantly at Richard.

"Oh. Umm. Yes, well, as I was saying, Mr. Pulitzer has unparalleled taste and only the highest standards and expectations–"

"What's that?"

"Race, that's enough," Charles commanded gently. "Kindly allow Mr. Thurston to speak."

Race glowered but nodded his agreement.

Charles smiled at him, then waved his hand to indicate that the floor once more belonged to Mr. Thurston.

Richard was getting the idea that they weren't terribly impressed by his connection to Mr. Pulitzer, which took the wind right out of his sails. He'd been counting on that seeing him through to getting this position. "My qualifications? Yes. I studied at the Teachers College at Columbia University and received my teaching certificate from there in 1895. I have been teaching at public schools since then, while doing some private tutoring in the evenings. I enjoy the one-to-one interactions as a tutor much more than the larger group instruction at a school, so I am exploring opportunities in which I can work individually with one or a few students in a private home rather than in a public classroom.

"I am, of course, well-versed in the basics of language, composition, literature, mathematics, and the sciences." He cast a sidelong glance at the girl sitting with Charles. "I am sorry to say that I am not skilled in any of the home sciences, such as sewing, cooking, or painting."

"I'd be happy to teach you," Annie volunteered. "Mama's teaching me, and the fellas, so I'm sure she wouldn't mind showing you how to do them, too."

Charles and Greta worked hard to hide their smiles.

"Uh, thank you?" Richard cast a weak smile at the girl. He turned his eyes once more to Mr. Montgomery, feeling more comfortable talking to the man in the room. "I have basic knowledge of Latin; am proficient in both Spanish and Italian; and am fluent in French."

Romeo tugged at Charles's arm and whispered something in his ear.

Charles nodded and asked Richard, "Romeo would like to know if you speak any Polish?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you speak Polish?"

"No. I'm afraid I don't."

Romeo wilted against Charles in disappointment. Charles wrapped an arm around the boy and gave him a little squeeze. He nodded to indicate that Richard should continue.

"I, um, I have studied the classics, both Greek and Roman, extensively, and –"

"Have you knowledge of Norse or Celtic mythology? Or any mythology from any other country?" Greta asked.

Richard was startled and looked at the woman sitting beside him. "Um, not really. I have heard some stories, of course, but I have not studied them."

Greta nodded.

"I do have a solid foundation in English literature, having studied many of the poets and playwrights, including, of course, Shakespeare."

"Hmmm," was Greta's only response.

Charles stepped in again. "Would you care to describe for me how you plan your lessons?"

"Certainly," Richard smiled at getting a question which he could answer with ease. "I run a structured class. Initially, I will conduct various tests to establish what my students do and do not know so that I might know where to begin their studies. After that has been established, I will draw up a schedule for each day, spending approximately one hour at a time on each subject, with a small break between each one, and allowing thirty minutes for lunch. I have found that a schedule that begins at seven and runs continuously through until four o'clock is an ideal span of time for lessons. There will, of course, be assignments for them to research and complete outside the classroom as well."

"I see. And how are your lessons conducted?"

"I teach primarily in lecture format, allowing the students ample time to take notes on the material, and with time allotted for them to ask questions for clarification."

"And for inquisitive students who may have questions prior to the set questioning time?

"I will respond as quickly as possible, but will work to keep on the subject so as not to disrupt the other students' learning."

Charles nodded. "That is quite considerate of you."

Richard smiled in satisfaction. He wondered if this interview might be going better than he'd been thinking.

"Does anyone have any questions for Mr. Thurston?" Charles asked the room at large.

"Yeah," Specs was first. "What's them classics you was talking 'bout?"

"The classics include Homer's _The Iliad_ and –"

Elmer broke in. "I didn't know Homer was sick. How'd you know?"

"Homer ain't sick. He moved to Brooklyn," Finch told him

"Nah," Albert corrected. "His pop moved 'em all to Flushing when his ma died. That way his grandma can take care of 'em all."

"So how'd _this_ guy know 'bout Homer?" Elmer still wanted to know.

"I think he's talkin' 'bout someone else," Specs said.

Elmer looked at Richard. "Which Homer ya talkin' 'bout, mister, and why's he sick?"

Richard had no idea what to say. He looked at Greta. She had her eyes covered with her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks, and her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably, in laughter, Richard supposed. He looked at Charles in panic.

Charles smiled calmly. "I think that about wraps up this interview." He stood and walked a bemused Richard to the door. "We certainly do thank you for your time and interest in the position."

Just outside the door, Richard turned and looked at Charles. "I didn't get the position, did I?"

Charles shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

"May I ask why?"

"Yours is a very traditional teaching style, and I'm absolutely certain it is the perfect methodology for hundreds of households in this city. This household, however, is rather unconventional."

"I gathered that."

"These children have had little or no formal education."

"How is that possible?"

"They have been living and working on the streets nearly their whole lives, and what education they have has been hard-won and fought for when they had the time. Do not make the mistake of thinking them lacking in intelligence, though. In that room are some of the quickest, most agile brains I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. What we are seeking is someone who can understand them and approach them in a way that they'll trust. Standing at the front of a room saying, "Trust me, I know this," is not the way to do that. Whoever takes them on will be facing a battle everyday as they question everyone and everything. If you cannot defend yourself, they will not trust you; if they do not trust you, they will not allow themselves to learn anything from you. It's as simple as that.

"Mr. Thurston, you are not a poorly qualified teacher. You will be a perfect match for someone, and I wish you luck in finding a position. We are just a little too unconventional for such a traditional teaching style, and I don't want to put you or the children through the experience that such a poor match will create."

"I appreciate that, Mr. Montgomery. May I wish you and your...family...luck in finding what you are looking for?"

"Indeed. Thank you."

Richard turned and headed down the sidewalk, pondering what had just happened.

Charles returned to the parlor to find that the boys had returned to their previous activities and had already put the man out of their minds, though they were still discussing Homer and the virtues of Brooklyn compared with Flushing. He just shook his head and chuckled to himself. Romeo was watching him intently, so he scooped up the boy and tossed him in the air.

Romeo giggled.

Charles loved that sound. "Let's go check on Greta and Albert, shall we? I didn't get any of the snack, and find I am quite peckish."

Romeo wrapped his arms around Charles's neck as they headed down the hall to the kitchen.

* * *

One week and a dozen applicants later, tensions were running high as the boys dealt with their disappointment at not having a teacher yet. One afternoon, just after lunch, when one boy griped at another for a relatively minor infraction, Charles decided enough was enough. "That's it," he said loudly, rising from his seat.

The room got quiet.

"Everybody. Coats on. Now."

The boys scrambled to do as instructed.

"Where we goin'?" Finch asked, pulling on his cap.

"While we work on acquiring someone to oversee your academics, we will commence working on your physical education. There have been far too many reports of newsies being poorly treated for me to feel comfortable having any of you outside these days."

"Yeah. Did ya hear 'bout JoJo and Sniper?" Elmer asked no one in particular. "They got soaked but good last week, just walkin' home. Didn't even have no papes. Thugs didn't even take their money. Just soaked 'em and ran."

"My point, precisely," Charles reiterated. "I have made arrangements with Sam Wah to teach you the art of self-defense."

"Sam Wah, the laundry guy?" Albert asked.

"Yes."

"How's he know 'bout fightin' from washin' sheets?"

"How do you know about cooking when you've only sold papers?" Charles asked back.

Albert grinned. "Fair 'nough."

Charles looked around at the assembled group. "Annie, coat on, please. You, too, Greta."

"Really?" asked an eager Annie.

"No, no, no," protested Greta. "I thought to get a head start on dinner while you were gone."

"Everyone in this house needs to know how to defend themselves," Charles told her, a hint of steel in his voice.

"Fighting is a man's activity."

"Why?" Charles took a step closer to her. "Because women are _never_ bullied, abused, or mistreated?" He leaned in to look her square in the eyes. "And they _never_ want to defend themselves when they are?"

The newsies and Annie watched the exchange in rapt silence. They turned as one to look at Greta, curious to hear her response. None of them expected her to pull Charles in for a kiss.

A long kiss.

A kiss Charles was only too happy to return.

After an initial shocked silence, the newsies all whooped and hollered, and Annnie hopped and clapped in glee. When they pulled apart, she ran to them. "Mr. Charles, are you gonna marry my mama and be my papa?"

Eyes twinkling, Charles looked from Annie to Greta. "It all depends."

"On what?"

"If your mama will agree to marry me."

"Oh, please, mama! Say yes! Please, please, please! I've never had a good papa and Mr. Charles is the perfect one! Please!"

"Hush, child," Greta admonished softly. "Let me think." She smoothed her daughter's hair as she gazed up at Charles. Her late husband had soured her on romance and the very thought of ever getting married again. She'd been quite content being on her own, especially after getting hired by Katherine and running Kelly House. But where Katherine was, Charles was, too. Their first few weeks here, both she and Annie had been extremely skittish around him. He'd never said a word, though; he'd actually seemed amused by their behavior. She'd been hit enough to know there was power in his arms and fists – he was as muscular as he was tall – but he never used that strength against anyone in the house. No matter how rowdy or rambunctious the boys got, Charles used stern words and tender touches to maintain order; he never once even threatened any sort of physical harm to keep the boys in line. Eventually she had relaxed around him. Soon after, Annie did, too, and started looking to him in the natural ways young girls look up to their fathers.

Since the night Albert got trapped in the basement, the night Charles had first kissed her and introduced the idea of marrying her, she'd been thinking about it. A lot. They'd shared many more stolen kisses since then, and had spent more than one special night together, but she'd never really thought he'd meant what he'd said about marrying her. Not with the history she had.

But here he was, waiting for her to say something. And really, what choice did she have? She loved him. She knew he loved her. And, not only did she know without a doubt that he would never raise a hand to harm her or Annie, he was demanding that the two of them learn how to defend themselves – even against him, should the situation arise (which she knew would never happen). How could she possibly say 'no' to someone who was offering her everything her heart had ever desired? She couldn't. She just couldn't. So she said, "Yes."

The newsies whooped and hollered again. Annie grabbed Romeo's hands and danced him all around the kitchen.

Charles's eyes glowed with satisfaction, triumph, and love as he pulled her into his embrace and asked, "Really?"

Tears of joy streaming down her cheeks, but grinning from ear-to-ear, Greta nodded.

Charles grinned back, then kissed her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

They broke the kiss when insistent tugging pulled them off-balance. Annie threw her arms around Charles, and he hugged her tightly.

"What about dinner?" Greta protested feebly.

"We'll eat at Jacobi's," Charles told her. "Someone go call Jack and let him know he and Katherine should meet us there after work."

Specs and Albert dashed down the hall to make the call.

Charles helped Greta and Annie into their coats while the other newsies finished pulling on coats, gloves, hats, and scarves. When they were all ready, even Crutchie, despite his protests – "Sam can show you some exercises to do so you'll be ready to join us after your casts are off," Charles told him, his tone brooking no argument – Charles ushered them out the back door. He draped an arm around Greta's shoulders and held a deliriously happy Annie's hand. "Let's go," he told them. "No wife or daughter of mine will ever be unable to defend herself against a man," he vowed.

"Mr. Charles?"

"Yes?"

Annie laid her head against his arm. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Annie-girl."

Her excitement was too great to be contained and she skipped ahead to participate in the jostling and gentle roughhousing with the boys.

"Mr. Charles," Greta said softly from his other side.

He smiled. "Yes?"

"I love you, too."

He stopped. "You do?"

She looked up at him and nodded. "I do."

"That's a relief," he admitted, "because I love you, too."

They shared a smile, then a kiss before catching up with Annie and the boys

* * *

The celebratory mood of the day carried over into the week. Planning the wedding proved a great diversion for the boys and Annie, as did practicing their new fighting skills. Charles worked with them to transform the second basement into a practice studio. Greta insisted on it after someone broke a lamp practicing in the parlor. Albert was trepidatious at first but soon overcame his fears because fighting skills were best practiced with both an attacker and a victim, so seldom was anyone down there alone. Then, too, there were no cabinets or other nooks and crannies for demons, imagined or otherwise, to hide behind. But best of all, there was no door at the top of the stairs, so there was no way he could get locked in. This feature, too, was at Greta's insistence. She maintained that if she wasn't in the kitchen then she wasn't long in coming back to it and she wanted to be able to hear if anyone got hurt or needed help, and a door just got in the way of that.

Greta and Charles saw no reason to prolong their engagement and set a date three weeks from the proposal. They initially wanted to have a small, private ceremony in the parlor of Kelly House, but between Kat's family, who all knew Charles and wanted to attend the wedding, and the large family-ish network of newsies, as well as other friends, they quickly realized that the house was too small. They arranged to hold the ceremony at the Episcopal church they attended on Sundays, personally inviting those on their list, and leaving word for others to come if they wished.

Jacobi was pleased as punch at the news and insisted on closing his restaurant on the day of the wedding so he could host their reception there. He refused to take no for an answer. Charles wasn't sure, having imagined something a bit more elegant; he wanted to give his bride the best that life had to offer.

"But you are," she assured him during a rare moment alone as they walked around a park near the house. "I can be myself even though I'm with you. I can have my own opinions. I can go places on my own. I can keep my job. You are taking nothing from me, and, in so doing, you are giving me everything."

He smiled and pulled her closer.

"As for our reception, let it be fancy or plain, I don't care. But, aside from the Pulitzers, no one we've invited is fancy. Everyone is coming to wish us happiness in our new life together but they won't be able to do that if they aren't comfortable."

"You may have a point."

"But the Pulitzers won't be comfortable if it's all deli sandwiches and beer."

"True. Though they are more accommodating than people might think."

"I'm sure they are," she reached up to kiss his chin. "So let's find a compromise."

"What do you propose?"

"I don't know. Perhaps the Pulitzers can provide the cake and the appetizers, and Jacobi can provide the entrees?"

"Hmmm, it has possibilities," Charles agreed. "Perhaps we should get all interested parties together and make the desicion collectively?"

"That is the second best plan ever," she decreed.

" _Second_ best?"

""The first best would be for you to kiss me."

"Now? Here?"

"Right now. Right here." She tugged at his lapels. "If Kat can do it, why can't I?"

He smiled down at her. "I have absolutely no rebuttal for that."

"Then kiss me."

So he did.

* * *

NOTE: I've had the house to myself this week, so I've been able to write and transcribe more. Merry Christmas!

I was working on the chapter after this one when, BOOM!, what you just read happened! I couldn't believe it! I had no idea things were going to happen this way! I knew Charles was going to coerce Greta into taking the defense lessons, and have been rehearsing that particular scene for days and days now, but never once, not until I began putting pen to paper, did I realize that their relationship would take a major jump forward! Believe it or not, I'm as surprised as you probably are! I thought to keep on writing and keep what has become the next chapter as part of this one, but Greta and Charles demanded, and deserve, their moment in the spotlight, don't you think?

Let me know what you think. I LOVE comments!

Have a safe and Happy New Year!


	21. Chapter 21: It Ain't in Jersey

Race, Specs, and Albert were returning home from a round of delivering wedding invitations late one afternoon when something caught Albert's eye.

"Hey, guys. What's that?" He pointed down the block. "Is that someone sittin' on our steps?"

"Looks like it," Specs said. "Let's go see. It's too cold for anyone to be sittin' outside like that."

They headed toward the stranger, stopping abruptly when Race realized, "It's a girl!"

They hurried the last few steps and peered down at her.

She looked up. "Hi!" she said cheerfully through chattering teeth. "It's a beautiful day today, isn't it?"

"Whacha doin' here?" Albert asked.

"Waiting for my husband."

The boys looked at each other, then up at the house to make sure it was theirs, then back at her.

"There's only one lady lives here what's already married and you ain't her," Race spoke for them all. "Ya sure you's at the right house?"

"Oh, sure I am," she said with a smile and a shiver, pulling her shawl more tightly around herself. "My husband's interviewing to be a teacher," she told them proudly.

"So he leaves ya outside in the cold?" Specs asked incredulously. "Don't sound like much of a husband to me."

"Oh, it's alright," she protested, then sighed sadly. "It probably won't last long anyway, so I'll be fine."

"Lemme ask ya this," Race said, "why d'we want a teacher what leaves his wife shiverin' in the cold while he's inside stayin' warm?"

What little color she had left her face. "You'll be living here, then?"

They all nodded.

Her eyes widened in panic as she struggled to stand. "Please. Please don't think ill of him. He didn't want me to, but we had no choice, really. Please," she pleaded again, looking from boy to boy.

Their attention was fixed on her belly.

"You's gonna have a baby," Albert observed.

She rested her hands protectively over her stomach. "Yes, that's why we really need him to get this job," she explained, near tears. "Please don't think ill of him."

Race growled low in his throat. "Albert, get the door. Specs, get her bags," he commanded as he scooped her up and carried her inside, ignoring her shrieks of protest until they were inside. He set her on her feet as Albert shut the door behind them, but the commotion had drawn everyone into the front hall.

The woman saw her husband and ran to him. "Oh, Tom. I'm so sorry," she sobbed into his chest.

He held her in his arms and gazed in silent wonder at the multitude of people joining them from elsewhere in the house.

Charles focused his attention on Race, Specs, and Albert, who were hovering guiltily near the door. He raised his eyebrows in question and their words tumbled together as they tried to explain what happened. He held up a hand. They got quiet. "One at a time, please."

Specs stepped forward to explain. "Albert saw her sittin' on the steps and we came to see why. She said she wanted to be there on account of her husband was interviewin' to be a teacher, but –"

"She ain't got no coat," Race spat with a glare at her husband.

"Yeah," Specs agreed.

"She couldn't say two words without her teeth clackin' together," Race continued.

"And she's gonna have a baby," Albert pointed out.

"Yes, I can see that," Charles said. "Did any of you think of inviting her inside?"

"Nope," Specs answered. "Happened real sudden-like."

"Don't think she'd'a come in anyway," Albert added. "She was frettin' 'bout us thinkin' poorly of her husband." He tipped his head to the side as something occurred to him. "Charles, what's her gettin' warm in the kitchen gotta do with her husband anyway?"

"Yeah," Race snarled, glowering at the man. "What kind of husband leaves his wife out in the cold?"

"Race," Charles warned.

"It's OK, Mr. Montgomery," the man said. He looked at Race. "I'm the kind of husband who knows you don't take your wife with you to job interviews. She knows that, too, which is why she volunteered to stay outside."

Race took a step closer to the man. "Why didn't ya leave her at a diner or somethin'?"

Tom moved so he was standing between his wife and the obviously irate boy. "Because restaurants make you buy something to take up a table and we don't have the money for that." He was beginning to get irritated at having his motives questioned by a child he didn't even know.

"So why didn't she just stay at home, then?" Race was just as perturbed with this man who, he felt, had severely mistreated his wife.

"Because the Mission House we've been staying at closes just after breakfast and doesn't open again until suppertime."

Every newsie felt like he'd been punched in the gut. None of them had had the security of a real home long enough to have forgotten what it felt like to be cold and hungry and have no place to go to fix either.

"Oh, geez, we's sorry, mister," Albert apologized sincerely. "We didn't mean nothin', honest."

"Yeah," Specs agreed. "We just wanted her to not be cold, is all."

"Bein' cold ain't fun," Race added contritely, "'specially when ya gots no choice 'bout it."

"But I told you it was my choice to stay outside," the lady told them.

"Ya did," Race conceded darkly, "but a lady ain't always allowed to say what she really wants to say."

"You make a fair point," the man said agreeably.

Race looked at him in surprise.

"But I wonder if I might have you consider this: What you see is not always what is."

"Come again?" Race requested.

"There is more to what is in front of you than what your eyes see. For example, just now, I saw a boy holding my wife and her screaming bloody murder. For all I know he was carrying her off to some far off place and I'd never see her again."

The three rescuers protested.

The man held up a finger to silence them. "Aahh, you see? What my eyes saw was not all that was happening, now, was it?"

"Guess not," Specs mused. "I mean, we brung her in and she was screamin', but we was only tryin' to help."

"True. But did I know that when I first saw you?"

"Guess not."

"Likewise, you were not aware of the reasons why my wife chose to stay outside while I interviewed indoors."

"Ain't ya told us?" Albert asked.

"I've told you part of it."

"What's the other part?"

"It is traditionally unacceptable to have family members with you at an interview. My wife knows that and she wanted to help by staying outside."

"But we'd'a let her come inside," Race protested.

"When the rules in a new place are different but you don't know it, you stick with the rules that you know."

"Makes sense," Elmer piped.

"Yeah," muttered a few others.

The man continued. "I suppose we could have found a library or other public place for her to stay, but the fact of the matter is we're still new here and don't yet know our way around, so we didn't want to get separated."

"Where ya from?"

"How long ya been here?"

"Ya gots names?"

"Greta, can I have a snack?"

"Ya gots more kids?"

The questions flew at them from all directions, so he plucked a few out of the air and answered those. "My name is Tom Callaghan and this is my wife, Bridget. We've just arrived from Ireland two, or is it three, weeks ago. This will be our first child."

"Ireland?"

"What's that?"

"It's a place, dummy. Didn't ya hear him say he came from there?"

"Yeah, but where is it?"

"I dunno. Jersey, maybe. He talks funny, so it could be Brooklyn. But it's prob'ly Jersey."

"Hey, mister, is Ireland in Jersey?"

Charles erupted into fits of coughing. Greta and Annie didn't try to hide their laughter.

Tom just looked confused. "Ireland is near England."

"Ohhh."

"So _England's_ in Jersey?"

Charles started coughing again.

"You OK, Charles?" Specs asked.

Charles took a few deep breaths, wiped the tears from his eyes, and assured Specs he was well. "Shall we adjourn to the kitchen?" he asked no one in particular. "I do believe I heard a request for a snack in that hubbub, and I'm certain that Mr. and Mrs. Callaghan would like to relax someplace warm. Annie, you lead the way. Specs, Albert, please bring their bags."

In no time at all, everyone was settled around the kitchen table with an array of cookies to choose from and hot chocolate for everyone. It had quickly become the boys' favorite wintertime beverage and Greta told Bridget, "If you prefer tea, we'll get you some, but first, something with substance for you and that baby."

"Th-thank you?" Bridget gratefully accepted her mug with a questioning look at her husband, who was sitting across the table from her.

He just shrugged. He was as confused as she was, with no idea what was going on. Never had an interview broken for coffee, much less cookies and hot chocolate. He wasn't sure if the interview was over or if it had even happened, though he was certain that he wouldn't get the job after the way he'd spoken to those boys. He hoped he and Bridget could at least stay until the Mission House opened for the night; he didn't like her being out in the cold so much.

"Hey, Charles," one of the boys said around a bit of cookie. "We wasn't here. What'd ya ask him?"

"Yeah," a couple others chimed in. "What'd he say?"

"We had only just begun the interview when we were interrupted. Why don't you ask the questions this time?"

"Really?"

Charles waved his hand to indicate that the boys had the floor.

"OK. I gots one, Specs began. Mr. Tom, d'ya know those classics all the others kept talkin' 'bout? Is ya gonna teach 'em to us? 'Cause they sound boring."

"'Cept for Homer," Elmer added, "but he's sick somehow."

Tom looked to Charles for clarification.

"Homer's _The Iliad_."

Tom's face brightened. "Ahhh," he chuckled. "'Homer is sick'," he laughed softly. "I like it." He looked around at the boys. "Well, we could skip those particular classics if you wanted to. After all, who wants to read about warriors and battles; gods and goddesses; disguises, deceptions, and dangerous journeys? I can see where it'd be boring to listen to tales of beautiful women who lure men to their death, a man who can't be killed, men riding in horses –"

"Don't ya mean _on_ horses?" one of the enraptured boys asked.

"No. I mean _in_ horses."

"How d'they do that? Horses ain't big enough for one man to be inside of, let alone more than that."

"If a man is inside a horse, ain't the horse dead? So how d'they ride anywhere?"

"Well, fortunately, you won't have to worry about that because it's part of those boring classics you want no part of."

"Hey, mister, I didn't say _that_ ," Specs objected. "I only asked was ya _gonna_ teach the boring ones like the other guys were. Yours don't sound boring at all."

"Will ya tell us how Homer got sick?" asked a worried Elmer.

Tom laughed. "Homer is a man who wrote stories. One of them is called _The Iliad_. But it does sound like he'd be sick, doesn't it?"

Elmer nodded.

"Will ya make us sit still all day?" Race jumped in.

"Well, now, that all depends."

"On what?"

" _Can_ you sit still all day?"

"Nope."

"Good. Neither can I."

"Ya can't? I thought all teachers just stood there and yammered stuff at ya and ya say it back 'til it's learned," Race explained.

"Well, I imagine there are some who do that, and it's sorry I am if those are the only teachers you've encountered. For me, learning is a much more active thing." He looked around and saw interested gleams in their eyes, so he went on. "It's like...like..." he struggled for something they might understand. He picked up a cookie. "It's like the frosting on this cookie."

"I frosted that one," Finch said proudly.

"And it's a fine job you did, too," Tom praised. "But was the frosting green when you started?"

"Nope. It was white."

"Yes. And so you put the drops in the white frosting and it turned green?"

"Yeah."

"Did it? Is there not something you had to do to make that happen?"

"Well, ya gots to stir it."

"Precisely. You," he looked around at the boys, "are like the white frosting. Learning is like the green color. I can give you the information – drip, drip, drip – then you're still white frosting, but with a green speck. That knowledge will sit on your brain," he tapped his forehead and smiled when he saw a couple of the boys do it, too, "and that's all well and good. But what if we take that knowledge and do something with it?"

"Like what?"

"Well, let's look at cookies. We'll learn all the math rules and do all the math problems –"

"Boooooring," a couple of the boys sang.

"That's the drip-drip-drip, ain't it?" asked Specs.

Tom smiled. "It is. But now, let's take those rules and measure out ingredients to make cookies –"

"Greta, we was doin' math when we did that? Why didn't ya tell us?"

"–and calculate baking times. We could make charts to see which recipe makes the most cookies. Measure the cookies to see how far they would go if you laid them end-to-end–"

A couple of the boys started doing just that and soon announced that the table was twenty-four, no, wait – "Elmer! Don't eat cookies off the floor!" – twenty-three-and-a-half cookies long.

"We can study cookies from other countries and compare those recipes to ours. While we're in each country, we can learn more about the people, stories, and customs of that place.

"Everything we do like that is taking the bits and pieces of knowledge that you have and stirring it up so it's a part of you, the whole you, and not just sitting on your brain, waiting to be useful."

"So, is ya gonna be our teacher?"

"Well, that's a tricky question, isn't it?"

"Why's that?"

"You see, I don't want to provide the drips. I want to hand out the spoons."

"So where d'we get the drips from?"

"That's be my job, then, wouldn't it? To show you where to get the drips."

"Come again?"

"Technically, traditionally, my title would be 'teacher,' but the way I see it is that none of us should ever stop learning. Granted, I've done quite a bit more learning than you have, but I'd want to use my experience to be like a, a guide, I suppose, someone to help you _discover_ the knowledge instead of just _teaching_ you."

"Sounds good."

"I likes it."

"What'll we learn first?"

"How'd those men get inside a horse?"

"D'ya think they played chess?"

"Would there be room for chess inside a horse?"

"Maybe if the men didn't take up too much room?"

"We don't gots horses in the parlor, but we gots chess."

"Let's play checkers instead. It's faster."

"Go get it."

Pretty soon several of the boys had a strange game of tin soldier checkers going on at one end of the table.

At the other end Romeo hid behind Charles, peeking over his shoulder at the new people. They seemed so nice and fun and interesting, but the man was a teacher, so Romeo couldn't be sure. Eventually, he scrummed up the courage to whisper a question in Charles's ear.

Tom smiled as the child's head popped up behind Charles's shoulder just enough to see what was going on, but from a safe distance. "Close, but not too close?" he asked Charles.

Charles nodded. "This is Romeo, the youngest of our lot. He has a bright mind – in fact, they all do – and is quite eager to learn, but recently had what you might call a less-than-exemplary experience at our local public school, and is quite wary of educators at the moment."

"That's understandable," Tom agreed.

"Oh, the poor, wee thing," Bridget crooned sympathetically.

"Thank you," Charles said. "If you do not mind my being the messenger, Romeo has a question to put to you."

"Of course."

"He would like to know if you will beat him if he doesn't know the answers to your questions."

"Good heavens, that will never happen!" Tom responded without thinking. Then, realizing what he'd done, he apologized for his outburst and explained in a calmer way. "First of all, I stand by my original statement: I do not hit students – or anyone else, for that matter – for any reason. Hitting doesn't solve anything; all it does is make the person getting hit mad because he just got hit, so he hits back. Now you have two angry people fighting, and what good does that do anyone?"

"Not a bit," piped one newsie.

"You got the right," agreed another.

"And consider this," Tom continued, "if a student knows all the answers, then why does he need a teacher?"

"Makes sense."

"Never thought a that."

Tom smiled. "It's actually a student's job to _not_ know the answers."

"I's a expert, then."

Laughter trickled through the room.

"A teacher who beats students for not knowing things is a lazy teacher, if you ask me. And if it's the student's job to _not_ know the answers, then it's the teacher's job to _show_ the student how to find the answers he needs; not just give it to him."

"Drip-drip-stir."

Tom laughed. "Precisely. Punishing you for being good at your job means I'd not be very good at mine."

A young head crept around to whisper once more in Charles's ear.

Charles nodded. "A wise question." He looked at Tom as Romeo hid once more behind his protector. "What about students who have a tendency to talk too much?"

Tom thought a moment. "Hmmm, that's a tricky one, now isn't it?"

"Why's that?" Race asked, sounding ruffled. "You ain't beatin' him for chatterin'."

"Of course not. That's not what I meant at all," Tom hastened to assure the boys. "I merely meant that talking is a powerful thing."

The newsies all seemed to relax.

"But, then, so is listening."

"Whacha mean?"

"Only that there is a time for talking and there is a time for listening. But sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. If you're excited, it can be hard to remain silent when you want to share something. If you're shy, it's a difficult thing to speak up sometimes." He looked around. Only a couple of the boys seemed to understand what he was trying to say. He picked up the cookie again. "Think of your drips. If you're talking while someone is trying to share something with you, it's like you're moving your bowl of frosting all around the table. You might get a drip or two, or you might not get any. But if you listen, you'll know where the drips are, so you can put your bowl in the right spot to get them."

"So we gotta be quiet to get the drips?"

"Sometimes. There are times when you get the drips by listening. Other times, you'll get them by talking."

"How d'we know which is which?"

"That's confusin'. Does we talk or doesn't we?"

"Let's put it this way: you can talk all you want unless you're asked to be silent and listen. How's that sound?"

The boys all seemed to relax.

"Sounds fair."

"I can do that."

"Whose turn is it?"

Their attention quickly returned to their game.

Tom heaved a sigh of relief and smiled at his wife, who smiled back encouragingly. He took a sip of his hot chocolate.

An orange cat peeked around Charles's elbow. "Does ya know 'bout fire cats?" a timid voice asked.

Tom looked at the tiger and the boy just barely visible behind Charles. "Fire cats? Well, now, that's not a breed I've heard of before, so I can't say as I know much about them. But that fire cat looks an awful lot like a tiger to me, and that's a breed I am a little more familiar with. So what I'd do there is show you how to find out about tigers, and maybe lions and cheetahs and other kinds of cats, and you could use what you learned to write a story about fire cats."

"I could?"

"Surely!"

"It'd be a grand story, now, wouldn't it?" Bridget asked her husband.

"I've no doubt it would be." He smiled at Romeo, who was edging out from behind Charles.

"Does ya know Polish?"

"Polish? Can't say as I do. But if it's Polish you're wanting to learn, I'm certain in a place the size of New York, it won't be hard to find someone to help you learn."

Romeo turned hopeful eyes to Charles, who chuckled and tucked Romeo into his side. "He's right. We can certainly find someone to teach you Polish."

Charles and Tom began talking and Romeo lost interest. He ducked around behind Charles and peered at Bridget.

She smiled. "That fire cat's quite the handsome fellow. Who's his companion?"

"What?"

She pointed. "The bear? Does he have a name, too?"

He edged closer so she could see it better. " _Miś_."

"Meesh. That's an interesting name, to be sure."

"It means 'bear' in Polish."

"You really like Polish, don't you?"

Romeo nodded. "My _Dziadek_ grew up in Poland 'til he was Jack's age then he came here."

"I see," said Bridget, who really didn't see at all.

"Is ya really gonna have a baby?"

"I am," she said proudly.

"When's it comin'?"

"In about two months."

"Will it be a boy or a girl?"

"Well, that'll be the surprise, won't it, now?"

"Why ain't it here, yet?"

She rubbed her stomach. "It's too small to be born just yet. There's some growing still to be done, then it'll arrive."

"Ya talk kind a funny. Where's ya from?"

"We came from Ireland."

"That in Jersey?"

She laughed. "It isn't. It's near England, though."

"Where's that?"

"Well, it's not in Jersey," she told him with a grin. "It's clear across the ocean."

His face brightened. "Is it near Poland?"

"Well, they're not neighbors, but they're closer to each other than they are to New York."

"Could ya show me? I gots one of those maps what spin. My _Dziadek_ sent me it."

"Yes, I can show you." She started to stand up, but Romeo was already gone.

A moment later, there was a crash down the hall.

"Land sakes, what's up now?" Greta asked no one in particular.

"I think the little one went to get a globe?" Bridget offered hesitantly.

Greta sighed, but smiled anyway. "One of you boys go see what he's up to."

"OK, Greta," Finch volunteered. They heard him say, "Geez, Romeo, why didn't you get the little one from your room?"

"I likes this one."

Finch reappeared in the doorway. "'S OK. He only knocked over the fireplace stuff tryin' to move that globe in the parlor."

"And scratch up my floors? I don't think so," Greta said. "Go get the rug from beside Crutchie's bed. Put the globe on that, then you can slide it down the hall."

"Hey! Great idea! Come on, Albert, give me a hand, will ya?"

The arrival of the globe brought all other activities to a halt as the boys clamored to know where places were: Ireland, Poland, New York, China (because of Sam Wah), the place where Homer (the writer who, thankfully, wasn't sick) wrote his stories, places where tigers and bears lived. Tom even lifted Crutchie up to sit on the end of the table so he could see the globe better.

During the impromptu geography lesson, the kitchen door opened, sending a whoosh of cold air around the room.

"Ma!" Romeo shrieked and jumped off his perch on the bench and threw his arms around her waist. "Ma, guess what!" He was positively glowing with excitement. "Mr. Tom came and left his wife outside and Race got mad so he brung her in and Mr. Tom said he ain't gonna teach us nothin' but he'll show us how t'get lots of drips so I can write a story 'bout fire cats and Mrs. Tom is gonna have a baby but it's too little to be born yet and we measured the table with cookies and did ya know that Ireland ain't in Jersey but it's near Poland?"

Tears of happiness streaming from her eyes, Kat caressed his beaming face and said, "Well, ain't that somethin'?" Then she lifted him off the floor in a bear hug.

"Damn," Race uttered into the suddenly stunned silence. "Who'd'a thunk I been missin' that?"

More than one newsie nodded and dabbbed a sleeve at his eyes.

Jack nudged Kat forward so he could get in and shut the door. "Hiya, sport," he said to Romeo, ruffling his hair as he moved around Kat to greet the two unfamiliar people in the room. "Mr. Tom, I guess?" he asked as they shook hands.

Tom nodded. "Tom Callaghan. This is my wife, Bridget."

Jack shook her hand. "Nice to meet ya." He looked back at Tom. "Welcome to Kelly House. Charles showed ya your room, yet?"

"I'm sorry. What?" Tom asked.

But Jack had already turned away to hang up his coat. He and Kat were besieged by the boys, all wanting to share their stories about their afternoon with Mr. Tom.

Kat finally broke away from the melée and introduced herself as she took a seat next to Bridget. "You have certainly made quite an impression on our boys," she commented with a smile. "Especially on this one," she hugged Romeo, who'd wedged himself under her arm. "Have you had a chance to get settled?"

Before Tom could ask her to clarify what she meant, Romeo asked a question.

"Mr. Tom, when can I write my story 'bout fire cats?"

"Anytime you want to."

"But you ain't gave me no drips, yet."

"True. Let's see...how about this: cats have excellent vision and can see quite well in the dark."

Romeo held up his fire cat to look into its eyes. "They can?"

"Yes. So, what sorts of things do you think _your_ fire cat might see at night?"

Romeo tipped his head to the side, thinking hard about it. "I dunno."

"Don't think quite so hard. Just let your mind consider all the possibilities. What will he see as he prowls around your room while you're sleeping?"

"He can prowl?"

"Of course he can."

"But," Romeo dropped his voice to a whisper and covered the cat's ears, "he's just a toy."

Tom leaned forward and responded in a low voice, "Yes, but the best, most loved toys are alive when you're not looking."

"They are?"

"Sure they are. Haven't you ever gone to sleep holding your fire cat close and in the morning, he was on the floor?"

"Well, sure, but I thought it's 'cause he just fell outta the bed while I's sleepin'."

Bridget scoffed. "Now that's just nonsense, pure and simple. Why on earth would a nimble cat like that just fall out of bed? He wouldn't, I'm telling you. If he's left the arms of the boy who loves him so much, it's because he's on the prowl. He got down there on purpose."

"So why come he don't just get back up?"

"There are rules about that, and the number one rule is that they cannot let people see them moving about."

Romeo slipped around to Kat's other side and leaned back against her while he peered up at the all-knowing, very wise Mrs. Tom. "So, if I wakes up and he's still in the bed with me, how does I know he went prowlin' or not?"

"Well, it's maybe an easy night he had and he was able to get back in bed with you before you woke up."

"So how's he protect me from bad dreams if he ain't with me?"

"Let me ask you this: how can he protect you if he stays in the bed?"

Romeo tipped his head in contemplation.

"It's like this," Bridget began. "Those bad dreams of yours, they live in the shadows of your room: under the bed, behind the drapes, and such places like that. Now, they have rules, too, and number one for them is they can't move around in the light. That's why you don't have bad dreams in the day time, and why some people leave a candle burning.

"But when it's dark, they whisper amongst themselves and slither about, seeing what kind of mischief they can get into, with their main purpose being causing bad dreams. Now there's some as can ignore the dreams or fight them off themselves, and that's fine. But others need help, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's a strong man who knows to ask for help when he needs it.

"So, you're sleeping soundly and the bad dreams are creeping along the floor like a bad fog, intent on making it to you. But your fire cat, now, he's on to them. He knows what they're trying to do and it's his job to stop them in their tracks.

"Once you're good and sound asleep, he hops down off the bed and he prowls. He checks under the bed, behind the curtains, and every other place he knows they hide plus a few more for good measure. And when he's done checking, he does it again. And again. If they decide to come out, he growls and snarls until they go back into hiding. If they come out anyway, he fights to keep them away from you."

"But sometimes I has a bad dream anyway."

"Ah, well, there _are_ times when one is larger than all the rest, or perhaps there were more than usual. There will be nights when he can't stop them all, so you need to have a plan."

"Mostly I just goes to sleep with Ma."

"Excellent! Powerful magic, that. There's not a nighttime monster can get past a parent's protection."

"Really?"

"Certainly. The love a mother and father have for their children is more powerful than any evil force any day of the year."

Romeo hugged Kat's arm. "My ma does love me an awful lot. Pop, too."

"Well, you just keep that in mind when they tuck you in at night. Eventually the monsters will figure out that you've got love on your side and they'll leave you alone."

"'S that work for anyone?"

Bridget looked up. The inquiry had come from one of the other boys, all of whom had apparently been listening to her story as intently as Romeo had been. "For certain it does," she assured them all. "There's love a-plenty in this home. I felt it the moment I set foot inside."

"You did?"

"Yes. I did. And that love protects all of you through each and every night."

"But I still has bad dreams," Elmer told her.

"Yeah, but is they as bad as they was before livin' here?" Albert asked him.

Elmer thought a moment. "Guess not," he realized with a grin of satisfaction.

"Maybe you should get a prowler, too," Albert advised. "I gots Arthur, and he does help."

Several boys looked at Jack, who chuckled, but he understood. "We gots some here for ya to choose from or we can go get ya another one," he promised. "But not until Tom and Bridget's settled in and we've had somethin' more'n cookies to eat."

"Excellent suggestion," Greta stated. "I need my upstairs crew to take their bags upstairs, lay a fire, and make the bed with clean sheets."

There was a brief flurry of activity as Elmer, Specs, and Finch hustled off to do as Greta instructed.

"Wait –" Tom began, but the boys were gone.

"Where are they taking our things?" Bridget asked, worried. She started to stand, but sat again at Romeo's voice.

"Don't ya wanta stay?" he asked.

"Stay?" Bridget repeated in confusion.

"What's he mean?" Tom asked Charles. "What's going on?"

"The job is yours if you want it," Charles explained.

"It's mine?"

Charles nodded.

"B-but, I don't understand."

"You have obviously made a connection with the boys –"

"And me?" piped in Annie.

Charles smiled fondly at her. "Of course, you, too, Annie-girl." He squeezed her hand before returning his attention to the Callaghans. "Our boys, and girl, will not thrive in a traditional educational setting. From the moment you introduced yourself, I had a feeling you were going to be precisely what we've been looking for."

"I just wanted you to know up front that I was Irish. To save time, in case it mattered."

"What's bein' Irish have to do with anythin'?" Crutchie asked, folding napkins for the dinner table.

"I'm not entirely certain, myself," Tom admitted, "but it's enough to get passed over for a job, no matter my credentials and qualifications."

"That's just dumb," Race scoffed, collecting plates and mugs. "Where you's from don't have nothin' to do with how smart you is."

"'Less you's a Delancey," Romeo added, gathering up the uneaten cookies and putting them in a cookie jar.

The boys laughed.

"Yeah. There's no makin' any of _them_ smart, no matter what," Crutchie agreed.

Tom smiled wanly and once again looked to Charles. "But the interview? We never got back to it after we were interrupted."

"What happened?" Jack asked.

Charles gave a brief summary of the incident in the front hall.

Jack whistled. "Tom, I gots to tell ya, if it ain't for the hundred-and-one things I seen just since I walked in the door, that woulda done it for me."

"Done what?"

"Told me you was the one for the job."

"But-but all I did was –"

"All ya done was take down a full-on-angry Race without raisin' your voice or either of ya throwin' punches." He grinned at a blushing Race. "That's impressive. Most people just get their dander up and yell back." He looked back at Race. "But Race, ya gotta be careful when a lady's havin' a baby. Ya don't wanta hurt the baby by pickin' up the mother the wrong way."

"Oh, god," Race paled and hurried to check on Bridget. "I didn't kill it, did I?"

Bridget patted Race's hand. "No. I'm fine and so is the baby."

He sighed in relief and went back to washing dishes.

"So, because I was able to avoid a confrontation, you're hiring me without an interview or anything?" Tom asked. Seeing Jack looking annoyed, he clarified, "I'm sorry for sounding ungrateful or like I don't want the job ... I'm just confused at how you would want to invite a complete stranger into your home with so little discussion or reviewing of my character and qualifications."

Kat sent Jack a smile to help him settle down. When he nodded and smiled back, she looked at Tom. "Mr. Callaghan, I can certainly understand your confusion. We are a large family and none of the boys is afraid to say what's on their mind."

Tom chuckled at that. "That's true, isn't it?"

"We can be overwhelming, I suppose, if you're not used to it. What you need to understand is why we're so unconventional." She smiled at Jack. "You see, until the last couple of months or so, the boys were living on the streets, and had been for most of their lives. Jack, too, until a little over a year ago. Aside from themselves, they could probably count the people they fully trusted on one hand. All the other applicants, qualified as they might have been, preferred a traditional classroom format –"

"One of 'em even promised to have us 'whipped into shape in no time'," Crutchie told them, a hint of anger still in his voice at the memory.

"But you don't need to be whipped into shape," Tom protested.

"And that," Kat said with a grin, "is why we want you to accept the job."

Jack leaned forward. "Livin' on the streets makes ya a pretty good at judgin' a man's character real quick-like. Somethin' seems fishy, you's outta there, and never seein' him again, or at least not trustin' what he says or does if ya can't get outta bein' around him. When we come in and seen all the boys and you in the kitchen, we knew without havin' to ask nothin' that you was the man for the job. Ya had to get past Charles to get to the kitchen, so that was big. But havin' the kids excited and askin' ya questions and such...well, I can see they trusts ya like they didn't any of the others, and that's enough for me. And then there's Romeo," he hugged the boy who had squeezed into the spot between Tom and Jack. "Ya gave him his voice back, and that's –" Jack's voice cracked as he hugged his son tightly.

"But-but...two extra people –"

"And a baby on the way," Bridget reminded them, worry in her voice. ""Surely you're not wanting to add that to your lives."

"We won't get to see the baby?" Romeo asked in disappointment.

Greta couldn't take it any longer. She stepped up to the table. "Stop it, now. All of you." She looked between Tom and Bridget. "You two are _not_ going back to the Mission House when there's a home ready and waiting to add you to it. With the boys helping, it's not too much trouble to add two more. Never you mind about the baby, either. There's enough people here to help you care for it, and it won't hurt Annie or the boys to learn how, either.

"You," she looked at Tom, "are going to help our children get the education they need in a manner best suited to them, and, I think, to you. You'll need to live here to do that, so stop arguing and just accept it. You'll be paid –" she looked at Jack, who quoted the salary they had decided upon.

Bridget's mouth dropped open and Tom choked on his drink. "Surely that's too much," he protested, "when you're providing room and board?"

"You'll earn it. Trust me." Charles assured him. "Our boys, and girl, are all smart as whips. Their minds are thirsty for knowledge and they are all intensely curious about how the world works. As you discerned very early on, they will not be satisfied with being told the reasons why about anything, they want to figure it out for themselves so that they can trust what they know. It takes a lot of work, and even more patience, to handle that kind of inquisitiveness."

"You sound like you know that from experience," Kat teased.

"It may be that I do," he responded with a smile at his memories of working with her when she was a curious and demanding girl, refusing to be pigeon-holed into a 'woman's place' in the world. He'd had his hands full with her...and he wouldn't trade a minute of it for anything.

Charles returned his attention to Tom. "I must caution you that in addition to this lot, you'll be expected to take on any newsie who wishes to join in the lessons, which is part of the reason the salary is what it is. We have some women who come in to work with Greta, and their children will want to participate, and when you're out and about, you may encounter some who want to join you on the spot. No one is to be denied, as long as this lot knows them, of course. You'll have a separate budget for educational purposes like stocking the schoolroom, going to museums, and the like, but please remember to include any newsie that wants to join."

"Don't forget the clothing allowance," Greta reminded him. "If I have to have one, so do they."

Kat laughed. "Of course," she said. "You two will be added to the account at Alexander & Frederick's to get new clothes, as well. Don't try to be frugal, either. They have their instructions."

"But I don't work for you," Bridget protested.

Greta looked at her. "Do you know how to clean a house?"

"I do."

"Will you be comfortable working with the boys and Annie? They're slower than if you do it yourself, but they need to learn."

"That's fine."

"Can ya cook, too?" Albert asked.

"I can," Bridget assured him.

"Will you be comfortable sitting in your room or in the parlor while we work around you?" Greta continued.

"Of course not."

"Perfect. Then you'll help out here. You'll be paid, too, of course. And get the clothes. Truth be told, I'll be glad of the help. It's perfect timing, too, with the wedding coming up."

"Wedding?"

Greta beamed at her fiancé. "Yes. Charles and I are getting married next week."

"Congratulations!"

"Thank you. We'll only be gone a week, and we're staying in the city – Charles won't let himself be where he can't get to Katherine if he needs to – but I've women coming in to help, so you won't be alone."

"Thank you?" Bridget was now as perplexed and overwhelmed as her husband.

Greta chuckled at the expressions on their faces. "Don't worry, my dears. I know exactly how you feel. These two," she pointed between Jack and Kat, "did the same thing to me when Annie and I first came here. But you get used to it. These scamps," she reached around Bridget to gently slap Spec's hand away from the cookie jar, "will have you feeling like you've always been living here before the week's out."

"Yup," Albert agreed, approaching the table, munching on a piece of bread smothered with jelly.

"Oh, you," Greta tweaked his nose. "Go on, now, get dinner started, then."

He giggled, kissed her cheek, and started getting the pots and pans he'd need for his part of the evening's menu.

"Now, Specs, why don't you take your new teacher and –" she was cut off by Romeo's protest.

"No!" he said more loudly than he'd intended. He looked up at Jack, worry evident in his expression.

"What's up, squirt?" Jack asked, giving him a light squeeze.

"He said he wouldn't be a teacher. He promised."

"You have a point, dear boy," Charles agreed.

"Teachers is mean people." Romeo shivered at a recent memory.

Jack tugged the boy onto his lap. "I gets it," he said. "What he is ain't gonna change, but the name means a lot. I's the same with parties. Don't' like 'em."

"Ya don't?"

"He doesn't," Kat confirmed. "Celebrations, galas, festivals, and such are just fine, but mention a party, and he breaks into a sweat and can't move. That's why we won't ever have a party here." She blew a little kiss across the table.

Jack smiled back. "So, Tom, whacha gonna be since ya can't be a teacher?"

Specs reminded them, "He did say as how he didn't wanta tell us nothin' but show us how to find it out."

"Yeah, handin' out spoons, but only after we gets the drips," Albert confirmed.

"Whaddaya call someone like that?" Crutchie wanted to know.

"A coach, perhaps?" Charles suggested.

"Coach?" several boys repeated.

"Yes. An athletic coach explains the rules of the game, shows his team how to play, then demonstrates exercises and other things they can do to improve themselves in order to play the game more proficiently. It seems to me that Mr. Tom will be your academic coach."

"Coach," a couple of boys tried it on for size. "I likes it."

"Come on, Coach," Specs invited. "Let me take ya to your room." He led a bewildered couple upstairs, told them where the bathroom was, then left them alone in their room.

Tom shut the door and sat on the bed beside his wife. "What just happened?" he asked.

Bridget hugged his arm and laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm not altogether certain. I'm still dizzy from how fast things were happening down there, but," she took a breath, "I think that every wish we never dared say out loud just came true."

He nodded. "I think you may be right."

"So what do we do now?"

He thought a minute before saying, "The way I see it is that we have two choices."

"We can go or we can stay."

Tom nodded.

They contemplated both options in silence for several long minutes.

"There really isn't much of a choice, is there?" Bridget asked.

"There isn't," Tom agreed, but there was no regret in his voice.

"Then we'll stay?"

He looked down at her and kissed the tip of her nose. "Well, it's that or we can stay at the Mission House at night, wandering about the city by day, watching our funds dwindle to nothing. I'll be looking for a job that'll accept the Irish, probably ending up getting a labor job for pennies a day, working sun up to sun down, leaving you alone day after day in a ramshackle flat in a questionable part of town because it's all we can afford." He shrugged. "It's not my first choice, but if it's what you'd prefer, we can certainly discuss it."

"Oh, you!" she smacked his shoulder.

He scooted back to lay on the bed, pulling her down to snuggle beside him as well as her belly would allow. "Me? I'd prefer to stay here with these people we don't know but who seem incredibly open and nice. Doing a job I'll love more than I ever thought possible with boys –"

"And a girl," Bridget reminded him.

"Yes, and a girl, who're eager to learn. Both of us making more money than I ever thought possible. Not only will I not be leaving you alone all day, every day, but you'll be surrounded by a family who'll care for you, and our baby." He sighed melodramatically. "But we must be in agreement, so if you want to talk it out..."

"You're daft in the head," she mumbled sleepily.

"Daft, am I?" He pressed a kiss to her temple.

"You are," she whispered. "But I love you, anyway."

She wiggled more securely into his arms and dropped off to sleep.

"I love you, _Cushlamachree_ ," he whispered back before he, too, gave in to slumber.

* * *

Tom slowly stirred to life. Was that knocking on a door? Though his eyes weren't open yet, his brows furrowed in confusion. There were no doors at the Mission House. Were there? Surely not. It was just a room full of bunk beds.

He heard a little snore. Wait. That sounded like Bridget. He opened his eyes and, sure enough, his wife was sound asleep next to him. But men and women had separate dormitories at the Mission House. He looked around, not recognizing the room. He sat up in a panic, but at the very moment he thought, _What's happened? Where am I?_ , the events of the day came flooding back. He heaved a sigh of relief, then turned to gently shake Bridget awake.

He heard the knocking again. "Just a minute," he called. "Wake up," he told his wife. "We've got company."

"Wh-what?" she asked sleepily.

He chuckled and helped her sit up. "Someone's at the door. Sit up, now." Once she was steady, he went to open the door. The lady who'd introduced herself as Katherine Kelly stood there.

She smiled. "Hi. I hope I'm not disturbing you, but Greta sent me up to tell you that supper's almost ready."

Tom yawned. "I'm sorry. It seems we both fell asleep. Please, come in." He stopped and frowned, shaking his head. "Listen to me, asking you to come in to a room in your own house."

Kat sat in the chair at the desk and waved off his words. "This may be my home, but while you are here, this will be your room, and no one here will come in without your permission."

"It's confused I am about that," Bridget admitted.

"What's that?"

"Whose house is it, really? You say it's yours, but Charles did the interviewing and Greta seems to run the rest of it. I thought it was their home?"

Kat laughed. "I can see how you'd get that impression. But Jack and I own the house and pay the bills, but you're right, Greta does rule the roost."

"But how can that be?"

"Bridget, it's none of our business," Tom warned.

"No, no, no," Kat protested. "If you're going to live here, then you have every right to know. You'd figure it out soon enough, anyway. You see, Jack and I both work for the newspaper, on top of which, I'm a complete disaster at any household chores, so we hired Greta to do that for us. Trust me, we're a lot better off with her in charge."

"You'll forgive me for asking, but how do you pay for this house, all the people living here, and now us? Surely, newspaper reporters don't make that much?" Tom asked. "If they do, then I'm changing my line of work."

Kat laughed again. "No, you're right. If it was just us and our salaries, we wouldn't be where we are today. But, my mother is wealthy in her own right, and my father owns the newspaper we work for, the _New York World_."

They just stared at her, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what she was saying.

"Let me tell you how our family came to be," Kat offered. She told them a shortened version of the strike, getting married, almost destroying the house, Greta, Crutchie, the boys, and now, them. "So, you see –" She broke off at a knock on the door.

Specs stood there, leaning against the doorframe. He'd obviously been listening in. "You tells a good story, Mare." He sauntered in and kissed her cheek. She stood and wrapped an arm around his waist. "This is Specs, one of my boys," she said proudly. "There's not much he doesn't notice, and he's great at calming down the others when their emotions run high," she bragged.

"Mare," Specs drawled in protest, but grinning at the praise.

"Did ya tell 'em, yet?"

Everyone turned back to the door, where Romeo was walking in, frowning up at Specs.

"Greta's gonna get mad and then we won't get no desserts," he griped at Specs.

"No, I ain't told 'em, yet. There ain't been time." Specs pulled Romeo to stand in front of him. "Don't be rude," he knuckle-rubbed the boy's head. "Say hi to Coach."

"Hiya, Coach. Is ya still gonna stay?"

Tom smiled. "We are."

"Good."

"Sorry 'bout that," Specs apologized. "Greta sent me up to tell ya supper's on the table and the little nuisance followed me."

"I ain't a nuisance!" Romeo protested. He looked up at Specs. "What's a nuisance?"

"Somethin' little and irritatin' and always in the way."

Romeo's protest was interrupted by Bridget. "Romeo," she held up her hand in invitation.

Romeo went to stand next to her.

"I have eight brothers and three sisters, and I'm smack in the middle of them all," she told him, "so I can tell you with complete authority that a little brother is supposed to be a nuisance."

"He is?"

"Mmm-hmm," Bridget confirmed. "How do you think little brothers learn how to grow up to be great big brothers and fine, well-mannered men?"

"How?"

"By tagging alone after their older brothers, watching what they do, hearing what they say, then copying what they've learned."

"Oh, great," Specs muttered. "Now he'll never leave us alone."

Kat lightly punched his shoulder. "Be nice," she whispered, chuckling.

Romeo looked back at Specs. "'S that what you's doin'? Showin' me how to be a good brother, too?"

"Yeah, I guess. But right now, I wanta show all of you's to the kitchen, so's we can all eat and so's Greta don't fuss at me for not gettin' ya down on time."

They all laughed but, without further ado, they followed Specs and Romeo down to dinner.


	22. Chapter 22: Beginnings

She awoke to the delightful sensation of tiny kisses peppering her face. She smiled and, eyes still closed, reached up to still the one kissing her so she could enjoy a longer, more satisfying kiss. As he slowly pulled away, she opened her eyes to drink in the face that was already so dear to her. It wasn't a traditionally handsome face, but for her, it was perfection. She smiled and softly caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers. She could barely begin to believe he was hers, and soon would be for the rest of their lives. She tugged him down for another luxurious kiss.

He was the one who smiled this time as they broke apart and he looked down at this woman he loved like he'd never loved anyone else. He'd never thought he would ever love someone this way. He'd been quite content with the way things had been and, if asked, would have said his life could not have been better.

He would have been very, very wrong.

After another long kiss, he rolled to his side, pulling her over to face him.

"I didn't believe I could ever be this happy," she whispered.

"I could be happier," he admitted just as softly, but with a twinkle in his eye.

"How?" she asked, returning his smile.

"Ask me again in about six hours," he suggested.

She beamed. "We'll be married."

"We will." He pulled her tightly against his chest, suddenly unable to bear having her be even mere inches away. When he relaxed his hold, he turned to lay on his back. She snuggled against him, resting her head on his chest.

They said nothing for a while, just enjoying the sublime feeling of being together.

She was drifting back to sleep when she felt the rumble of his voice beneath her ear.

"Are you certain this is acceptable?"

"Hmmm? What do you mean?"

"This," he squeezed her. "Our being together so soon before the wedding. I thought a groom was not allowed to see his bride for a whole day before the ceremony commenced."

"Hmph," she scoffed. "They made me do all that before, when I was forced to marry that –" She took a deep breath. "No. I did all that silly stuff before and look what it got me." She shook her head. "After that, I never expected to love anyone, much less marry again." She looked up and kissed his chin. "This time, I'll do things my own way."

"And how is that?"

She rose up slightly, propping her head on her hand so she could look at him as she explained. "I want to go in with my eyes wide open. I want to spend as much time with my groom before the ceremony so I can see that he still wants this as much as I do, that he still wants me. I want to watch him right up until there's no turning back to make sure he won't have any regrets about having me in his life."

"You don't doubt my affections?"

"Absolutely not. But the skeptic in me that was born during my previous marriage won't have it any other way. That man...he was...well, let's just say he wed me so he could bed me. When that proved to be not as satisfying as he'd planned, he contented himself with gambling away my father's money. When that ran out, he blamed me. He only ever did two good things in his life."

"And what were they?" he ventured to ask when she didn't elaborate.

"He gave me Annie. And he got himself killed."

Charles chuckled. Slowly at first, then a little more, until he was outright laughing. "Greta, you are an absolute treasure."

"I hope you always think so," she told him, just a touch of worry in her voice.

He pulled her close once more and wrapped his arms tightly around her. "Like you, I never figured on ever marrying. I was happy with my life and did not realize I wanted more until you and my Annie-girl walked into it. Suddenly, I could see what I had not known I had been waiting for." He combed his fingers through her hair. "I think that two people who had never counted on loving, who find each other against all odds, well, I think that they'd hold on to that love and never let go. Don't you?"

"I do. But Charles, until we're actually married, I'll still worry."

"I know," he said sympathetically. "I guess I'll just have to stick to you like glue until we're wed."

She smiled. "I'd love it if you would."

"Consider it done, my dear."

She drew herself up to look at him. "I love you so much."

He pulled her down for a kiss. "I love you just as much in return," he admitted just before their lips met.

They had not been asleep for long when they heard the church bells in the distance chiming the hour. Shortly after that, they heard a couple of the boys fighting over the bathroom one floor below.

Charles smiled. "And the day begins." He hugged Greta awake. "Come on, sleepyhead. Time to get up. It's our wedding day."

She grinned. "It is, at that, isn't it?" She kissed him. "I suppose it's time for me to move back to my own bedroom?"

He nodded, kissing her again. "Yes. But it's the last time. After this morning, we can remain together while we listen to the joyful chorus below."

She laughed. "'Joyful chorus,' indeed. I don't envy Jack and Katherine. I don't know how they sleep through it every morning."

Charles stood and reached for his robe. When he was dressed, he held Greta's robe for her to slip into. "Jack is not only used to it, but he gets up with them. Katherine, on the other hand, is an intensely sound sleeper and is probably unaware of the ruckus at all." He walked her to the door. He opened it and peeked out into the hallway. "The coast is clear, my dear. Go get dressed, and I'll see you to the altar."

"See that you do," she commanded teasingly, kissing him as she passed by.

* * *

It was a beautiful wedding they were telling her. She didn't know. She had eyes only for her groom. Surely a ceremony that bound you for the rest of your life should take longer? Yet it wasn't ending. What could be taking so long? They were together forever, but there wasn't time to be alone. She talked. She ate. She danced. She laughed. She remembered none of it. Her thoughts were only for her husband.

His wife. _His_ wife. His _wife_. He had a wife. He was married. He was a _married_ man. Through all the conversations, the jokes, the food, the merriment, the only thing he could think was that he was married. He was a husband. He was a _husband_. He squeezed her hand, her arm, her waist, whatever was closest, just a little harder, proving that she was really there. She was really his to hold. She was beautiful. So beautiful. He wanted to kiss her. Should he? Was it permitted? He realized he didn't care. He kissed her. She kissed him back. He took the cheering and shouting to be signs of approval. Everything had happened so quickly. The day had sped by. Would it ever end? Would they ever be alone?

At last! They were being sent away! She grinned and waved, but did not recognize who she was seeing. Charles. Charles, her husband. Her _husband_. She pulled her head back inside the carriage to gaze upon this person with whom she would spend the rest of her life. Did he still want her? Should she speak? Should she touch him? If she did, she might not stop. If she didn't, she might explode. What should she say? What should she do?

He looked at her, longing to reach out and touch her. Would she accept his advances? The urge to connect with her was overpowering, so he kept his hands to himself, afraid of what might happen in this carriage if he gave in. He asked her to wait. He whispered. He could not speak louder. The hotel was just a short distance away. Please wait, he entreated. She nodded. He stared at her. His wife. His beautiful wife.

They had arrived. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. He looked at her. The raw emotion in her eyes nearly sank him to his knees. He could not wait much longer. Neither could she. He picked her up to carry her over the threshold into their room. He kicked the door shut but did not release his wife. His wife! How did he get so lucky to have a wife!

He never wanted to let her go. He set her down.

He looked at her. She looked at him.

They didn't touch.

Not yet.

Not yet.

Not much longer.

He couldn't stand it. He had to touch her.

He reached for her.

She reached for him.

Their world exploded.

* * *

Charles slowly drifted into consciousness. His eyes fluttered open and he stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. Where was he? Then the fog of drowsiness cleared and he remembered. He smiled, extreme joy and satisfaction filling him. He was married. He was on his honeymoon. His smile grew. He turned his head to look upon his sleeping bride. He would forever wonder how he got to be so lucky as to be the one to have captured her heart. But he would not complain. No. Never. He toyed with a lock of her hair.

His stomach rumbled. He rolled over to check his watch on the bedside table. His eyebrows rose. He did not realize how late it was. But perhaps not too late to have dinner sent up? He donned his robe and crossed the room to use the phone to call the front desk. Having dinner delivered wasn't something they usually offered, but for an additional fee? He agreed to the added charge and placed his order. He then returned to kneel beside the bed and cajole his wife – he beamed again at the mere thought; would the wonder of having a wife ever fade away? He hoped not – into consciousness. "Greta," he sang softly. "Greta, wake up..."

She groaned and rolled her head to the other side.

"Greta," he continued to sing. "Greta, it's time to wake up..."

"Stop it," she mumbled.

"I cannot. Dinner will soon be here."

"Dinner?" She turned her head to look at him.

He nodded. "Come, now. Let's freshen up a bit before we dine." He stood and held her robe for her.

She slowly stood, and, once dressed, leaned sleepily against him.

He gladly held her and simply savored the feel of her in his arms.

All too soon there was a knock at the door. Charles sent Greta in the direction of the dining area while he went to answer the door.

After a succulent dinner of roasted pheasant, grilled vegetables, and mashed potatoes loaded with butter and sour cream, Charles told his bride, "I have something for you."

"You do? What is it?"

He stood and took a step away from the table before he stopped, turned around, and bent over to kiss her. "I know I'm being ridiculous," he admitted, "but I just can't help myself. I'm as giddy as a schoolboy, knowing that you're forever mine." He kissed her again.

She smiled. "I'm quaking inside like the girl I once was. Hoping for so long to capture the eye of the boy I fancied, then not quite knowing what to do once I had his attentions."

He pulled her up so he could hold her closer. "I have no complaints about anything you've done thus far," he assured her. "And I promise that in the unlikely event you do something I find unfavorable, we shall simply practice it over and over until we are both satisfied with the result."

"What will we do after that?"

"It would be a shame to let all that hard work go to waste, so I will probably recommend that we continue doing it, seeing as how we put forth such effort to achieve an agreeable outcome."

"Mmmm," she hummed against his lips. "Should we begin practicing now?"

"You haven't yet done anything which I haven't liked."

"Let's practice getting it wrong so we can work on fixing it."

He scooped her up and carried her to the bed. "That plan," he said, "has a lot of promise." He then laid her down, and they commenced practicing getting things wrong.

* * *

They lay together in companionable silence. Charles sat propped up against pillows, idly flipping through a magazine he'd found in their room. Greta lay snuggled against him, watching him turn the pages, but not paying attention to what was on them until something caught her eye. He picked up on the slight change in her posture. "Is something wrong?"

"No." She pointed at the ad in the magazine. "Presents," she said.

"Yes?" he drawled.

She sat up. "You said you had one for me."

He chuckled. "I did say that, didn't I?"

"You did," she agreed. "But you haven't given it to me, yet." She pretended to pout, then ruined the pose by giggling.

His laughter joined hers as he went to his bag and returned bearing three boxes. "I would have given these to you hours ago," he told her, placing them in her lap then climbing back under the covers. "But something distracted me and I completely forgot."

"Hmmm...married less than a day and already you're forgetful? There has to be something we can do about that."

"Oh, there is," he told her in husky tones, "but it will require quite a lot of practice." He captured her lips with his own.

She eagerly returned his kiss until she shifted and one of the boxes poked her in the hip. "Ow," she complained, pulling away. She moved the offending box, then smiled at her husband. "We can practice all you like, but first, presents."

He laughed. "You sound like a child at Christmas."

"I feel like one," she confessed. "I never got presents from my other – and, well, afterwards, there wasn't enough money for me to get any presents for Annie, much less for myself."

"I'd shower you with gifts every day if I could."

"Don't you dare," she warned. "A gift is meant to be special, an unexpected treat. Getting gifts everyday would make them common and ordinary, and I would never ask for or want that."

He tucked her into his side. "I know." He kissed the top of her head. "That's why I said, 'If I could'."

She smiled up at him, kissed his cheek, and said, "So, which one do I open first?"

He pointed to the smallest of the three gifts.

She hastily did away with the wrapping to find a jeweler's box.

He stopped her before she opened it. "I must tell you that this gift was Annie's idea, so it is as much from her as it is from me."

She smiled and opened the box to reveal a gold locket. It was simple in design, just a plain oval shape; the only decoration was two words engraved on its face: 'Yours, Always'. She opened it to find a picture of her Annie on the right, and her Charles on the left. Tears of happiness welled up in her eyes as she looked upon the two faces dearest to her heart. "I love it," she said, leaning against him. "It's beautiful." Charles took it from her and fastened it around her neck.

She kissed him. He gladly returned her affection, but stopped after a few minutes. She whimpered in protest.

He chuckled. "We'll practice some more in a bit. For now, it's time for your second gift." He handed her the smaller of the remaining two boxes.

She dispensed with the wrapping paper just as quickly as before to find another box from the same jeweler.

Once again, Charles stopped her before she could look inside. "As I said, Annie chose the locket. The boys – "

Greta laughed in anticipation.

"The boys liked the locket as well, but were quite disappointed that you wouldn't be wearing their pictures, too. Their solution was a locket with a spot for everyone."

"Oh, my."

"Indeed. Once the jeweler explained the inconvenience of such a plan, he worked with them to create an alternative solution. Tom and Bridget helped, as well."

"They're not supposed to be working, yet."

"Tom says learning can happen every day, whether you're officially on the job or not."

"I suppose so."

He moved his hand, inviting her to open the box.

She gasped. "Oh, my..." she said in awe tracing her fingers over the piece inside before carefully lifting it from its bed. It was a cameo brooch, only instead of being the traditional oval with a woman's silhouette, it was a long rectangle bearing the image of two hands holding a heart topped by a crown. Greta lifted wonder-filled eyes to her husband's.

"Tom and Bridget told them of an Irish Claddagh ring: the hands mark friendship; the crown stands for loyalty; and the heart, of course, means love. They explained that a Claddagh ring is traditionally used as an engagement or wedding ring."

"The boys didn't care."

"They did not. They understand love, loyalty, and friendship, so that was good enough for them. But they still wanted you to wear their pictures. Bridget suggested the rings." He pointed to the brooch.

Greta looked at it. On a rod suspended beneath the brooch was a collection of small, wide rings, each with a boys name engraved on it. Annie, of course, had a ring, too. She could barely see Charles through the tears pooling in her eyes. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she whispered.

"We all hoped you'd like it."

She leaned in for a kiss, but he held up a hand. "The brooch soothed a lot of feelings, but some still wanted their pictures taken for you."

"Elmer? And Romeo?"

"Precisely. And their logic resonated with the others, which brings us to this." He placed the last, and largest, box in her lap. It was heavier, too, so she unwrapped it with a little more caution. Carefully packaged inside were framed pictures of all the residents of Kelly House, including Tom and Bridget. Each frame was hand-carved in the shape of a leaf, with the subject's name carved into the design. The craftsmanship of the frames took her breath away.

Charles reached into the box to pull out a small sheaf of papers, which he handed to her. "Those are from the boys, but this is from me." She looked through the drawings. "As you know, Jack and Katherine are remodeling the third floor to create larger bedrooms and improve the schoolroom."

She nodded. They had all discussed the changes to be made. It was their gift from Jack and Katherine, but since Greta and Charles would be living there, Jack had decreed they should say what they wanted.

"Well, I've added a project to the contractor's list." He showed her one of the drawings. "We'll be getting rid of the cramped little offices we don't use and creating a sitting area there, a kind of kitchen parlor. We'll also be knocking out most of the wall between the kitchen and dining room."

She at him with questions in her expression.

"We need the space," he explained. "The kitchen is the heart of Kelly House. We do spend a lot of time in the parlor, but we convene more in the kitchen. The boys aren't little, they don't sit still very well, and we just added two more people to the family. There just isn't room for all of us at the kitchen table. The dining room has ample space, and the table there has room for us all and several more, but currently, it's inconvenient to how we do things. By opening up that wall and having the dining room connect directly to the kitchen, we will maintain the heart of our home, but we will have room to accommodate everyone as well."

Tears were streaming unchecked down her face now. "This is...this is..."

"This is not over," he told her. "There's one more thing." He showed her another drawing. "Here, in the kitchen parlor, on the newly exposed wall, Mr. Jacobs is going to add a tree."

"A tree?"

Charles nodded. "He's carving a tree with many branches and lots of hooks on which you can hang your new pictures. He's going to make more frames, too, for any pictures you want to add in the future."

"My pictures," she placed a hand on the stack. "My family...a family tree," she said in wonder.

"My thoughts exactly," he confirmed.

"And it'll be where I can see it."

"I must admit, that was Albert's suggestion," he confessed. "I initially planned for it to be in the dining room, but he said, 'She's gonna have to stop what she's doin' to go and look at it and she ain't gonna like that'."

Greta laughed. "I can hear him saying that." She wiped her eyes with a corner of the sheet. "But he's right. I'd much rather it be there, in the kitchen, where I can see it always."

Together they looked at her gifts again, slowly, so she could savor each moment and memorize each beautifully-framed face. She asked questions about the kitchen renovations and pored over the drawings.

When they were finally putting it all away for the night, Charles cleared his throat.

She looked up.

"I know this may seem an odd question, given what we've just been discussing, but I did promise Katherine I would ask."

She raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

"She wanted to know if you still wanted to work at Kelly House."

Greta gasped. "She's not – "

"Certainly not," Charles hastened to assure her. "Your job is as safe and constant as ever. But, as you are a married woman now, it would not be unusual for you to want your own household so you could focus your attentions solely on your family."

"But she is my family."

"I know that, and so does she. Just as you understand her concerns," Charles told her, his smile lessening the sternness of his words.

She reached over the side of the bed to put her box on the floor, then curled up in her husband's arms. "I do know what she means, and I love her all the more for offering me the choices that she has.

"I would have been happy just to have been their housekeeper and cook. It gave me a job and a safe place to live with Annie. The job and home was enough. More than enough. And I tried. Goodness knows I tried to stay within those boundaries. But they wouldn't let me.

"They plucked me and Annie off the street and made us a part of their family. We were never 'staff' or 'servants' even though I was being paid to be there. They own the house, but in every other way it's mine. They gave me free rein over it and haven't balked or complained about anything I've done. Do you know how unusual that is?"

Charles nodded. "I do."

She didn't hear him. "And my boys, my beautiful, lively, energetic boys...," her voice cracked. She was unaware of the tears streaming down her face. "Can you imagine being there all day long, among all those boys, the other newsies, and all our friends? Being there, in the center of all that life all day long, then having to leave it at the end of the day to go home to a dreary little apartment that has no life, no children, and still has to be cleaned?" She looked up at him and her tear-stained face caused his heart to skip a beat. He hadn't realized she was this upset. "You aren't going to make us move, are you? Please say we can stay. Please?"

He frowned. This wasn't like her at all and he didn't quite know what to make of it. "Of course, not," he replied. " _I_ will never decide anything that will affect our family; _we_ will make such decisions together."

She hiccuped. "I want to stay at Kelly House," she declared meekly.

He tucked her back against his chest and kissed the top of her head. "Then that's where we'll stay."

"Good," she whispered, and, with one last quivery breath and a hiccup, she was sound asleep.

For a long while, Charles pondered Greta's unusual outburst. He'd expected her to scoff and, in her usual practical manner, declare that Kelly House _was_ her home and she was not planning on moving anytime soon, thank you very much. He hadn't expected her to get as upset as she'd gotten. And the lapse into complete dependence on his whims? He wasn't certain he liked that at all. Still, he couldn't make rhyme or reason of her odd behavior just now, so he rolled to his side, pulled his wife close, and was soon asleep, too.

* * *

When he awoke, it was to sunlight pouring in through the windows and something tickling his nose. He squinted his closed eyes to try and block out the light and batted at the air near his nose. His hand came in contact with something that felt like it had a lot of legs and he jolted to a sitting position in alarm. He relaxed almost immediately when someone broke out in giggles beside him. He growled playfully and snatched the frondy-feathery thing she'd stolen from the flower arrangement in their room and tossed it to the floor.

She laughed even harder.

"You appear to be feeling better this morning?" he inquired.

She blushed.

He was entranced.

She nodded. "I am so sorry about what happened last night. I don't know – " She stopped. Took a breath. Shook her head.

"There is no need to apologize."

"Thank you." She smiled ruefully, "but I'm still sorry for acting that way, though it did remind me about your present."

"My presents? But how? So soon?" His brows scrunched up in confusion.

"No, silly. Not your gifts to me," she pushed a box closer to him. "Mine. For you."

"You did not need to – "

"No more than you needed to give me my gifts," she interrupted. "But I did want to give you something. You won't be able to use it for quite a while, but I thought you'd like to have it now, anyway."

"Now I am quite intrigued," he admitted thoughtfully. "What could it possibly be?"

"You'll never guess, so you might as well open it." She picked up the long, flat box and put it in his lap.

He blew her a kiss.

She smiled shyly and hugged her arms around a pillow, worried that he wouldn't like it.

He tossed the paper and the box lid to the floor and peered at the contents inside for a long minute before he looked at her. "Lace?"

She nodded.

"I don't understand."

"Pick it up."

He did as she requested and found the lace was attached to a very long, but very tiny dress. He looked back at her. "I still don't understand. You're giving me something we'll give to Tom and Bridget?"

She shook her head. "It's a christening gown, and it's not for _them_."

"Surely not Katherine...?"

She shook her head again. "No." She could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he thought it through, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the tiny gown.

"If it's not for Bridget or Katherine, why else would you give me a baby's – " He froze. He looked at the gown. "A baby," he whispered. He looked at Greta. "A baby?"

She nodded, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. Was he happy? She couldn't tell.

He looked back at the gown he was still holding up. "A baby," he whispered in absolute shock and wonder. He remained frozen in that position for several minutes. He said nothing, just stared at the tiny garment he was holding.

She finally took the gown from him, carefully folding it and placing it back in the box, which she laid on the table beside the bed. She toyed with the hem of the pillowcase for a minute while she waited for him to say something. When he didn't, she looked up. He had sunk back into the pillows, his head tilted back against the wall, and tears flowed from his closed eyes.

Her chin wobbled at the sight. "I-I'm sorry. I know it's a lot to take in, on top of getting married. But I promise, you won't have to do anything. I'll take care of it, and Annie will help me – "

Her words abruptly halted as Charles pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms tightly around her. "Greta," he rasped, his eyes roaming her face, drinking in her beauty, memorizing her features. He cradled that precious face in his hands. "Greta, my glorious, beautiful, endlessly wonderful wife...will you please shut up?"

She stiffened and pulled back. "Excuse me?" she huffed indignantly.

He grinned. "That's more like it," he stated in a satisfied way. "There's _my_ Greta."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you do know," he pulled her back against him. "Come, now. Relax."

"I thought you preferred me stiff and upset."

"Now you're just being obtuse," he told her. "You know perfectly well I like you just the way your are, but, my dear, the way you are is not weepy and begging, making promises to care for a baby solely to keep me placated."

She was silent for several long breaths, then she relaxed and said, "You're right." She curled into his arms. "It's just that I've only ever told that to one other person and he beat me. When you didn't say anything, and you were crying, I – "

"Shhh," he soothed. "I understand," he assured her. "It makes perfect sense." He held her tightly against him until she settled down and relaxed again. "Let me tell you a story so you might understand my reaction with more clarity."

She nodded.

"From the time I was a lad, I never thought of marrying. Yes, boys do occasionally think of such things, though not in the same way I'm told girls do. My young friends would say things like, 'when I marry such-and-so, she'll be this or that,' or 'after I marry whoever-she-is, this will happen.' It never occurred to me to make similar boasts or claims, but I listened, laughed, and encouraged the others.

"When I was old enough to realize what I had done, or hadn't done, as the case may be, I wondered if, perhaps, I might be one of those fellows who prefers intimacy with other men. But, no, I quickly learned that was not the case. I much preferred women for intimate moments, I just never imagined myself marrying one of them.

"Then I met Joseph and we found we got along famously. I followed him to St. Louis, then to New York. He was always on the scrawny side while I never have been. He's also rather ruthless and not always the most diplomatic or tactful of men, so he made some enemies here and there. Due to my size, I naturally fell into the role of his protector, though he never asked it of me. He's not the easiest person to get along with, but he's a fine man, and loyal almost to a fault.

"He met and married his wife, Catherine, or Kate, as she preferred to be called. It never occurred to him that I would leave him to live elsewhere. Kate didn't object, so there I was, sort of a coattail brother, then doting uncle to their children.

"When Katherine, _our_ Kat, that is, was four or five, she wandered away from her nanny, was kidnapped, and held for ransom."

Greta gasped.

Charles nodded. "He was not an intelligent man. I found him within hours, had him arrested, and young Katherine was home in time for dinner."

"How was she?"

"Spitting mad."

"What! Why?"

"She'd been following a rabbit through the park and the fellow scared it away before she could see where it was going."

"No," Greta choked, trying not to laugh.

"Mmm-hmm."

She gave in. "You know," she said between chuckles, "that sounds just like her." She laughed some more. "Always curious, taking off after another story."

"She has always been headstrong. She's the perfect combination of her father's tenacity and her mother's grace and charm."

"Jack never stood a chance."

"No. He didn't. Neither did Joseph, once his Kate decided she wanted him, or when his daughter chose Jack as her match."

"From the stories I've heard, her father put up a good fight."

"He did. But it was doomed from the start. She's as stubborn as he is and he knows it. But I don't think Jack minds. He's a lot like Joseph, and me; our eye might notice a pretty face, but our hearts are drawn to intelligent women who give as good as they get. Just like you. Someone who isn't afraid to stake her claim in this world and God help anyone who tries to mess with those under her protection."

She looked up at him then and the love in her eyes caused him to gasp. They got lost in each other's gaze for several long minutes before he remembered his story. He shook his head, tucked Greta back in his arms, and continued.

"It took only the one incident for us all to see the problem: Katherine needed her own nanny. The only problem with that was how restrictive they were."

"How so?"

"Katherine wanted to run, play, jump, explore, investigate. She didn't want to stay home to paint or sew; being a girl was not a good enough reason enough for doing or not doing something. She had question after question, and simple answers weren't good enough. She always wanted to know why."

"She sounds a lot like the boys."

"Yes," he smiled fondly at memories, both recent and long past. "She exhausted four or five nannies in a little under a year. She wasn't bad, she was just energetic, both physically and intellectually." He sighed. "I did not trust the last nanny she had, so had taken to following them when they went on outings. It turns out my instincts were right. The woman was part of a trio planning to kidnap Katherine."

"No!"

"Yes. The man who had kidnapped Katherine the previous year was the woman's brother. She and her cohorts planned the new attempt as an act of revenge for his being caught and imprisoned. Their plan was to make it appear as though she was beaten while trying to protect Katherine from being taken. It wasn't the most clever of plans and I put a stop to it before it came to fruition.

"Joseph was at his wit's end. He couldn't lock up his daughter, but no one could look after her, either. Kate, however, solved it all in blink. 'Charles,' she said, 'will you do it? Protect our daughter and see that she gets what she needs?'

"It was, of course, my honor. I was floored that she would ask. She waved away my protestations. 'You're practically her nanny now, anyway, seeing as how she's always going to you after she frightens off the ones we select. Let's try working with someone of her own choosing, shall we?'

"It worked. I understood her as no one but her parents did. She was much more inclined to obey or think before acting when she was given the freedoms she so desired. It helped that when she misbehaved or did not listen, she was required to stay at home and work on her embroidery."

Greta tried not to laugh, but failed. "That's priceless!" she guffawed. "It's perfect!"

Charles's laughter joined hers. When their merriment died down, Charles continued. "We explored the city, she and I, from the penthouses to the projects, townhouses to tenements. And she thrived, my Katherine did. She thrived." He sighed fondly, remembering their adventures.

"I never once considered her to be my daughter. Never. And she knew, too. There are just some things fathers do better than anyone else, no matter how dearly you love someone else. Even so, there's a part of her that's mine, and I will cherish that until the day I die."

"Of course you will."

"Joseph asked me to protect and teach his daughter, and he hasn't asked me to stop."

"I don't think you would, even if he did ask."

"Probably not." He squeezed her, grateful that she understood. "So there I was, surrounded by a family who loved me and who I loved in return. I was an all-in-one nanny-tutor-bodyguard to one little girl I couldn't love more if she was my own daughter, and fond uncle to her siblings. At the time, I couldn't have asked for more.

"Then she got married, and an influx of new people began entering my life." He smiled. "I loved being part of the Pulitzer family. It never occurred to me to want what Joseph and Kate had because I was a part of it. But, that morning when I walked into the kitchen and saw you there, cleaning the stove – "

Greta didn't believe him. "I was a mess! My hair all wrapped up. Covered in soot and dirt – "

"There were smudges all over your face, too," he reminded her, tracing a spot long-since cleaned. "But with young Annie taking refuge behind your skirts, you stood up to the threat you imagined me to be. You were quaking with fear, but your eyes shone with intelligence and determination, and I found that to be utterly captivating. Suddenly, everything I had paled in comparison to what I now wanted to have: you."

"What about Annie?" she teased.

"Are you kidding? She's wonderful! Having never imagined myself as a married man, I figured I was too old to start a family, but if I could win the hearts of you and your daughter, I'd still be in seventh heaven.

"Then the newsies began visiting, and then our boys moved in. Though Jack is definitely their leader, their brother, they all, even Jack, rely on me to protect their newfound world. And I won't lie, I enjoy that. I love having them all in my life. There's not one of them I feel I could live without."

"Me, neither."

He took a deep, shuddering breath.

She propped herself up on his chest to better see him, once more struggling to contain tears. "I am so very afraid that what I want to say will make it seem as though I will, from this point forward, love my girls and my boys less, or not as much, or in a secondary manner, but – "

"Shhh," Greta silenced him, placing a finger on his mouth. Wiping at the tears escaping his eyes, she told him, "Let me share something my mother once told me.

"My sister was just a few weeks old and apparently I'd been a handful since she was born. My mother finally called me to her one morning. As we snuggled together in her bed, she asked me what had me so upset. I told her that I didn't want her to stop loving me. She hugged me and said that was impossible. 'But the baby's so new and I'm so old,' I reminded her; I was all of six years old at the time. She hugged me and told me to stop being silly. 'The more you love,' she said, 'the more room your heart gets to love others. Loving you doesn't take up space in my heart, it adds space for loving more people. Because I love you so much, I can love your sister, too. Besides, you are the best Greta I will ever know, and nothing she does will ever take that away. What would my life be without my Greta? Dull and dreary, that's what.'

"So, my wonderfully loving husband, you will not love the other children in your life less. You will love them differently. Kat was your first niece-daughter; Annie is your first daughter; the newsies are your first boys; our baby will be your first-born. None rank any higher than the others and all occupy their own special places in your heart."

He pulled her up into his arms and buried his face in the curve of her neck.

She held him until he got his emotions under control once more.

He leaned back and gazed tenderly at her. "You could not have said anything better just now," he told her. He looked around for the gown. Greta reached over to pull it off the table. He lifted it up once more before carefully laying it out on his lap. He gently touched the lace, the ribbons, the hem. Keeping his eyes on the gown, he told her, "As much as I never imagined myself married, I suppose it was always a possibility. But a child – " his voice cracked. "A child never even entered the realm of my imagination. A child ..." his voice lowered to a whisper. "This is truly a gift because I cannot imagine anything more unexpected."

"Then you're happy?"

"There aren't words..."

"Coming from the man who always has plenty of words, that's something." She kissed away a lone tear that rolled down his face. "Charles?" she asked softly, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Yes?" He rested his head on hers.

"You won't ask, but I want to tell you, just so there's never any question."

He wrapped an arm around her. "What is it?"

"I accepted your proposal before I knew about the baby. Even had I known, nothing but being completely in love with you would have prompted me to accept."

He sighed. "You silly, silly girl," he chastised softly. "You would never have allowed me into your room that very first time if you did not love me."

It was her turn to sigh. "How do you know me so well?"

"You are my heart," he whispered. "How could I _not_ know you?"

She curled into him and he tightened his hold on her. They lay together in easy silence for a while before Greta asked him if he wanted a boy or a girl.

He didn't hesitate. "A girl, I think."

"Really? I thought men wanted sons to carry on the family name or somesuch like that?"

"Naturally, I will love our child, boy or girl. But, currently, I think we have enough boys in our home. We need some more girls."

Greta laughed and sat up. "That logic's as good as any, I suppose." She reached for the christening gown.

"This is beautiful," Charles praised, letting it run through his fingers as she pulled it over to fold it. "When did you have time to make it if you've only known for a week?"

"I'd like to take credit for it," she admitted, "but while I am a competent seamstress, my talents don't run to this level of work." She ran her fingers over some of the lace on the little sleeves as she placed it in the box. "Hattie Davis made it for us. She's the only one I've told, but I wanted to give this to you now." She smiled apologetically.

"I don't mind," Charles assured her. "It's the perfect gift and was a very nice way to share your news." He took the box from her, covered it with the lid he scooped off the floor, and scooted it to the foot of the bed. He stood and pulled her into his arms. After a nice good morning kiss, he smiled and said, "Mrs. Montgomery, as much as I love staying in with you, I'm feeling a distinct need for sustenance. I propose we get tidied up and dressed, go find something to eat, then see what this city has to offer us."

She wound her arms up his chest and around his neck. "That sounds like a good plan to me," she agreed, tugging to pull his head down, "but kiss me first."

He willingly complied.

* * *

Over the next few days, they explored the city, Charles showing her some of the hidden gems he and Kat had discovered. They went to the theater, an opera, watched a moving picture, and visited several museums. They also did a bit of shopping; not only did they want to take gifts back for everyone at home, but Christmas was fast approaching. They visited several furniture stores looking at cribs and cradles, but, in the end, decided to ask Mr. Jacobs to create furniture for the nursery. "Maybe with the leaf design from my frames?" Greta proposed. "I really like those."

"I'm sure that won't be a problem," Charles told her, smiling broadly. He still hadn't wrapped his head around the idea of his impending fatherhood, and when it was the subject of the conversation, he couldn't help but glow with excitement and pride.

At breakfast on the fourth morning, Charles noticed that Greta seemed a bit distracted or restless or ... he couldn't quite pinpoint what was different, but something was definitely on her mind.

"I don't know," she responded when he asked. "I'm fine, really," she began poking her eggs with her fork.

"But..." Charles prompted, sensing she had more to say.

She poked at her eggs with a little more force. "Do you think they even notice that we're gone? Maybe Helen and Mary are doing such a good job that they won't need us anymore. Maybe I should have said I want that dreary little apartment after all."

Charles reached over and took her fork before she cracked the plate.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, slumping back into her chair. "I don't know what's gotten into me."

Charles lifted her fingers to place a gentle kiss on them. "You have nothing for which to apologize. You are the one who explained to me that your feelings, moods, and thoughts often fluctuate wildly in the early stages of pregnancy. I think that this might just be one of those times. Perhaps the best thing we should do is distract you from the negative thoughts you're having."

She sighed. "I suppose."

He chuckled and stood to hold her seat while she got to her feet. "Let's go see what the day has in store for us."

Just outside the restaurant, they stopped to greet an acquaintance of Charles. Greta stood politely beside her husband while the two men chatted, absently watching the activity in the lobby. She'd never have thought a hotel would be this busy, especially this early in the day. The sound of raised voices pulled her eyes to the door. The doorman seemed to be arguing with someone. She idly wondered what the problem could be. Surely they'd let people in just to admire the beautifully ornate lobby? She let her eyes flow over the gilded ceiling, admiring the flawless work of art that it was.

A sound pricked her ear. She couldn't say what it was or how she heard it over the low buzz of voices, luggage carts, and general activity, but she had definitely heard something. She looked around. There. She looked toward the door. She'd heard it again. She focused on the arguing doorman. Who was he arguing with? She heard it again. It was so familiar. What was it? Then she caught a glimpse of – wait. It couldn't be. Could it? No...yes! It was! She gave a quiet cry of delight and looked at Charles and his friend. "I'm so sorry...it was so nice to meet you...but I must...I'm sorry..." she pulled her arm from Charles's and hurried to the door.

The doorman tried to stop her, saying something about protecting her from riffraff. She pushed him to the side and wrapped her arms around Albert, who had already latched his arms around her. "My boys," she crooned, beaming. Albert pulled back a bit and she framed his face in her hands. "My beautiful boys." She turned to hug Elmer and Specs, too.

"Madam, please," the doorman protested. "I really must insist. If you'll just return inside, I'll see these...boys...out. They won't bother you further."

Greta turned on him. "You touch my boys and you'll live to regret it," she warned. "The only one bothering me right now is you, so I suggest you remove yourself before I'm inclined to boot _you_ to the curb!"

"B-but -"

"But nothing," she insisted, slapping his hand off of Specs's arm. "Go," she shooed him away. "Go do whatever it is you do. My boys and I will carry on. Inside. All of us."

The doorman looked between her and the poorly dressed boys and the large man now looming protectively behind them. He didn't know what to do. This hotel served a particular clientele, but the man and woman claiming these urchins were obviously wealthy. After greeting the boys and sending them toward the elevators with the woman, the man approached the doorman. "I do apologize," he said. "They've been apart for a while and are overcome with excitement." He pressed something into the doorman's hand. "Thank you for your patience and understanding." He tipped his head politely and moved to join the odd little group. The doorman looked in his hand and nearly fell over. He was used to getting large tips – these were wealthy people, after all – but never had he received a ten-dollar bill as a tip before! He watched them cross the lobby and get on an elevator. He shrugged. Who was he to tell them who they should trust? It was no skin off his nose if they woke up tomorrow with everything they owned gone, along with those boys. He smiled as he pocketed the tip, then turned to assist someone with their bags.


End file.
